


Triangle

by SuperUnexpectedGirl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Polyamory, Possible Polyamory, Romance, Smut, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 01:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 58,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperUnexpectedGirl/pseuds/SuperUnexpectedGirl
Summary: Neoma loves video games. Like, obsessively loves video games. Especially Thedas and the world of Dragon Age. But being stuck in one with no way to get home is very different to playing one and now she has to learn how to be useful in a world where her particular skills are... not useful at all... to put it politely. Throw in a couple of romance options, some magic and a whole cast of her favourite characters and she might just make it work. Maybe. This isn't a video game any more after all.Starting in Dragon Age 2 and working towards Inquisition.Rated Mature for certain chaptersDisclaimer: I don't own the Dragon Age universe or characters obvs...





	1. It always starts with lightning

**Author's Note:**

> Short-ish intro chapter. I've written quite a lot of this story but I'm really just obsessing over certain bits and nitpicking, so there should be a fair amount incoming quickly. Also my first Dragon Age fic although I did write a Neverwinter Nights 2 one about 10 years ago that I recently posted here (migrated from FanFiction). 
> 
> Please do leave a review and/or comments - it's always worth hearing how you can improve your writing :)

The rain seemed to have come out of nowhere. Dark, aggressive. Like someone was emptying a bucket from the sky. It came on so suddenly - she was driving home mid afternoon, leaving work slightly earlier than usual - the sky was clear, and moments later dark clouds rolled in and the lightning started. It’s not that Neoma wasn’t used to lightning, they had electrical storms all the time, but this was hectic enough to make her nervous, especially while she was driving. She slowed down, switching on her lights. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, and she felt the tension as she hunched her shoulders. She noticed there weren’t many other cars on the road, for which she was grateful. People drove like morons in the rain she grumbled to herself. 

She leaned forward to look up at the sky. It was so dark it was almost black, the clouds roiling viciously. She’d be glad to get home and get into bed with a cup of coffee. Neoma looked down at the road again as lightning flashed and she gasped in surprise, jerking the steering wheel to the side. There was a woman standing in the middle of the road. A horned woman. Wait... what? 

She managed to slam her foot on the brake, but it was too late and she felt the car begin to slide as she jerked the steering wheel in the opposite direction. She lost control, her car veering to the side, crashing into the ditch that ran along the side of the road. 

The car stuttered to a halt, jerked and stalled as she took her foot off the clutch. “Fuuuuuuuck!” she muttered, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She looked out the window but the road was now empty. No woman with horns. Horns? She must have been hallucinating. Or a trick of the light, something like that. There was no woman, horns or otherwise anywhere she could see. She sighed and tried to restart the car. It started but when she revved and she felt the car’s wheels slide uncomfortably, she realised she had another problem. The car was actually stuck. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” she shouted. “Why!?” She sighed heavily. Now she was going to have to get out of the car and try and push it. Or more accurately she suspected she was going to have to call someone or walk home in this rain. “Fuuuuuuuck!” she said again, slamming her hand on the steering wheel. She reached into her pocket for her cell phone. She began to look for the phone number of her best friend, and then noticed the signal, or rather lack thereof. She groaned. Of course. Of course there was no signal. 

Peering out the window, she braced herself mentally. She was going to be soaked the moment she stepped outside. She pulled her hoodie up over her head, made sure she had her car keys, her wallet and her cell phone, took a deep breath and opened the car door. As she jumped out she was immediately soaked through by ice cold rain. She felt her feet squelch in the mud and thanked whatever god was out there that she was wearing high top waterproof sneakers because she hated the feel of mud in her shoes. As it was it already squished unpleasantly underfoot. She grimaced but bent down to look at the damage. “Shit,” she muttered again. Both tires on the right hand side were sunk deep into the mud and she could see immediately that she wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t even have an umbrella in her car, rain at this time of year was not unheard of, but unusual. She really wasn’t prepared for this kind of storm. 

Resigning herself to the fact that she’d have to walk, she made sure she had everything in her pockets, locked her car and out of habit she checked her phone again, but the signal was still completely non-existent. Hunching her shoulders against the rain, she started walking down the road in the direction of home. She knew there was a petrol station a few kilometres away, so figured she’d ask if she could use their land line when she got there. A bright flash of lightning followed almost immediately by the loudest crack of thunder she’d ever heard, made her almost jump out of her skin. She flinched and knew she would have to hurry. It simply wasnt safe to be walking out in the open in a storm like this. 

She walked faster, trying to reach somewhere safe now becoming her new priority. Getting struck by lightning now seemed a much more real threat. Another flash and crack of thunder and she was sure she saw a horned figure standing in the road facing her. Crazy. You’re going crazy she told herself. She picked up her pace slightly, breaking into a jog, her heart hammering with fright in addition to exertion. 

A bright flash and crack close on the heels of the last one illuminated the horned woman from earlier standing right in front of her. She shrieked in fright and fell backwards, tripping over her feet and landing on her butt as the woman raised her arms, channelling the lightning into herself. 

As the lightning emcompassed both of them, Neoma realised they weren’t, in fact, horns. It was her white hair…

____________________

Neoma awoke with a start, cold and wet and lying uncomfortably in the dirt. She sat up, her heart pounding. What the actual fuck had just happened? It took her a second as she looked around to realise that she hadn’t woken up in the same place she’d passed out. Hang on, passed out? Been engulfed in fucking lightning by a lady with hair horns! Her mind reeled at the memory, but she took a deep breath to steady herself. Ever practical, she’d deal with whatever the fuck that was when she was warm and dry. She looked around again. Where was she? It looked like she was out in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t raining, but she could hear the sound of the ocean. This confused her even more, she didn’t live anywhere near the ocean. Where the hell was she? She got to her feet, feeling the pain of bruises and stiffness on the side she’d been lying. She felt her phone poking into her hip and pulled it out of her pocket hoping she might have some signal or could check Google Maps to figure out where she was. Pressing the power button to wake the phone up, she frowned in disappointment. Perhaps she’d been unconscious for longer than she thought. Not only did she not have signal, but now the battery was completely dead. “Goddamn it!” she muttered in frustration.

Putting the phone back in her pocket, Neoma brushed herself off and tried to make head or tail of her surroundings. Not knowing where she was, she ended up just picking a direction that looked vaguely downhill. She didn’t have the energy to be climbing uphill right now towards what looked like a mountain silhouetted in the distance, and hoped she’d be able to find some kind of civilisation or someone who could help her. 

She trudged along for what she estimated was half an hour, she wasn’t wearing a watch and without being able to check the time on her phone she could only guess how long it had been, when she spotted a campfire in the distance. Relieved, she picked up her pace and made her way towards it, hoping to dry herself off. She wasn’t quite as soaked through as she had been, but her jeans were still damp and she was cold. 

As she approached the fire, she could see four or five people sitting around it, with tents and what looked like a large cart in the distance. It seemed a bit odd that they would have a cart, I mean, where was their car or camper van if they were camping? She was desperate enough to disregard the thought however, it was a question that could wait for another time. They turned as she approached them, keeping her hands where they could see them. She didn’t want them to think she was carrying a gun or a knife or anything. 

“Hi there!” she called. “How are you this evening? I was hoping you could assist me.” 

They stood up as she approached, looking around them warily. “Are you lost?” the one man asked gruffly. 

“Uh, not lost exactly…” she replied, suddenly acutely aware that she was a lone woman approaching a group of strange men. “I was just hoping to be able to dry myself by your fire more than anything. I got caught in a storm and my clothes are soaked through.” 

“Yes of course, no problem at all,” he said. “Please, join us.” The men shifted to allow her closer and she noticed they were quite dirty. She wondered how long they’d been camping for. Alarm bells suddenly went off in her head and she hesitated. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She didn’t move forward. 

“Is something wrong?” the man said and she glanced at the others surreptitiously. They were slowly re-positioning themselves to cut off all her avenues of escape other than where she’d come from. 

“Uh, no. Not at all,” she said warily. “I um… just....” Rather than try think up an excuse she turned and bolted back the way she had come. She heard shouts and footsteps behind her and knew her instincts had been correct. This was definitely a bad idea. Shit, why didn’t she observe them first before approaching them? She spotted some trees and pushed harder for an extra burst of speed, her legs pumping and her lungs burning, trying to lose herself in the foliage. God only knew what they would do to her if they caught her. 

She crashed into the trees, pushing her way through the undergrowth to get deeper into the forest. She heard them shout behind her and rather than make more noise, she ducked behind a tree, trying to calm her breathing and hide, hoping they wouldn’t find her. She heard them coming closer, one of them walking past her, his feet cracking branches as he went. She wondered if he knew how noisy he was being. She didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know if you were tracking someone you needed to be quiet so they couldn’t find you. She breathed shallowly, crouching down to make herself smaller, letting out a sigh of relief as she heard him move away. 

Quietly she shifted her weight and stood slowly, turning to sneak away in the opposite direction and started as she found one of the other men standing right behind her. As he grabbed her and pinned her arms to her sides, she realised in dismay she’d been tricked. She kicked and screamed but he was too strong and held her tightly, his armour… (wait, armour?) digging into her flesh. She bucked and screamed but to no avail. “Hold still you little bitch!” he growled. 

The first man had circled back around and now stood in front of her, a glowing stick in his hands. Neoma shrieked and struggled against her captor, but the man in front of her started chanting, then pointed the stick at her and everything went black.


	2. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and her companions are fighting yet another band of slavers in Kirkwall and make a discovery in the slavers caverns.

Hawke brushed hair from her eyes and wiped the blood from her face, thinking as she did that she was probably only smearing it around. They made their way into yet another room filled with slavers in the endless warren of tunnels. 

“Ug, where are they all coming from?” she muttered as they attacked. Her daggers flew as she hacked and slashed her way through the onslaught. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fenris’s white hair, his tattoos glowing and his greatsword cutting a swathe through the slavers. Anders stood at the back, his staff flashing. She felt the barrier around her materialise just as a slavers sword came crashing down on her and she jerked her attention back to the battle. “Pay attention Hawke!” Anders shouted at her and she grumbled a thanks for his help.

Finally the last slaver was dispatched and as the glow from Anders’ spells faded, Hawke wiped her daggers on a dead man lying at her feet before resheathing them. They moved through a doorway, noting the captured slaves in cages, all of them dead. At least half the bodies were fresh and Hawke felt a pang as she wondered how many had died of neglect or been killed when the slavers realised they were being raided.

“Spread out, see if you can find anything useful and then let’s get out of here,” she said getting out her lockpick as she moved towards a chest in the corner. 

The group spread out, searching the room. Suddenly a shout came from Fenris. “Hawke! This one’s still alive!” She ran over, intending to pick the lock on the cage, but Fenris was too impatient to wait, smashing it open with his sword. The figure that lay in the bottom of the cage was a woman, clearly under-nourished and filthy. The slavers likely thought she was dead already and didn’t bother to check. She groaned and stirred slightly but otherwise remained unmoving. Not waiting for instruction or consensus, Fenris bent down and scooped her up in his arms. “We should get her out of here,” he said. Even if any of them had disagreed, the look in his eyes forestalled any arguments. 

“We can take her back to my clinic,” Anders replied. “I’ll check her there to see what the damage is.” Fenris pressed his lips together in displeasure. He made no secret of his dislike for the mage, but nodded in agreement. He recognised the need for her to be healed and no matter his feelings on the subject, Anders was a skilled healer. 

They made their way back to Darktown and the clinic, the weight of the woman slight in his arms. Fenris couldn’t tell exactly how old she was - he guessed somewhere in her twenties - her hair was dirty and matted and the weight loss made her look gaunt and fragile. He felt her stir in his arms and looked down to see her staring up at him, her eyes a startling blue in her pale face. “Don’t worry,” he said gently. “You’re safe now.” She said nothing, but stared at him for a moment before nodding slightly and resting her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes in exhaustion. Maybe his ears were playing tricks, but he could have sworn he heard her say, “Fenris,” under her breath as she relaxed and fell asleep against his chest, when he knew he hadn’t told her his name. He filed the information away in the back of his mind to revisit later when he had more time.  
____________

“She just needs rest now,” Anders said as he collapsed into a chair next to the woman’s bed. “She was malnourished and weak, but there doesn’t appear to be anything else wrong with her.” He looked at Hawke. He appeared to consider something but then shook his head. “I’m not sure how long she’d been there, but I would say they were looking to sell her into the sex trade. She’s not a virgin but she hasn’t been… abused… like many of the other female slaves I’ve seen.” He grimaced at the unpleasantness of the statement. 

“You should get some rest Anders,” Hawke said gently. Anders started to protest but she was firm. “No, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. I can stay with her if necessary.” 

“I’ll stay with her,” a voice came from behind her. Hawke and Anders looked over in surprise. They had both forgotten Fenris was there, he had quietly faded into the shadows while the mage was working. He shrugged. “What? I don’t mind and Anders needs rest.” 

Although always suspicious of the elf, Anders was too tired to do anything but nod in assent and make his way to his bed, collapsing into it fully clothed. Hawke watched him go then turned to Fenris. “Are you fine here by yourself if I go and get cleaned up?” she asked. She quite liked the elf but they often butted heads with regards to his opinion of mages. Hawke wasn’t a mage, but her sister was, and she didn’t like Fenris’s attitude towards magic. Yes it was dangerous, and Bethany had until recently been an apostate, but she was responsible and caring. His blanket hatred of all mages irked her, no matter how loyal he was to Hawke. 

Fenris nodded. “I’m perfectly fine here,” he said pulling up a chair and settling himself into it. “I’ll send word if you’re needed back here urgently, otherwise just return when you’re rested. I can clean up later.” Hawke eyed him suspiciously. This was surprisingly accommodating of Fenris. He raised an eyebrow at her. “There’s no ulterior motive here Hawke. It’s quite simple. She’s a slave, I was a slave. I want to make sure she’s recovered.”

Hawke nodded and left the clinic, leaving Fenris alone with the woman. He watched her sleep for a while, noting that while she was still dirty - she’d definitely need a bath when she awoke - she seemed to have a number of tattoos in a style unfamiliar to him. She was quite pretty he thought, but definitely needed to put on some weight - her face looked gaunt. It would take a while even with healing for her to be at full strength he mused. 

Sleep and fatigue took him unawares. He didn’t even notice his eyes close as he nodded off, but awakened with a start to see a pair of blue eyes watching him. 

He sat up, expecting her to startle and cower like many slaves but she just watched him. “You’re awake,” he said, feeling suddenly foolish for stating the obvious. “How do you feel?” he added. 

She wrinkled her nose. “Dirty,” she responded. Her voice had a pleasing timbre to it, low and throaty, if a little scratchy from lack of use. “Thirsty too,” she added. He noticed her accent, but couldn’t quite place it. 

Fenris got up from his chair and left the room, returning with a glass of water. “Sip it slowly,” he instructed and she nodded, sitting up in bed. “I’m going to see if I can find you a bath and some clothes,” he said. 

She looked down at the dirty clothes she was wearing and wrinkled her nose again. “Please,” she said. 

Fenris left the room again and managed to track down one of the volunteers at the clinic to arrange a bath and some clothes. He returned about ten minutes later and without asking, lifted her into his arms and carried her towards the bath. He had expected her to protest but she merely placed her arms around his neck as he carried her. He was quite prepared to bathe her as well, but one of the women who assisted Anders shooed him out as soon as he tried to help. “I’ll call you if I need you,” she said firmly and closed the door in his face. Fenris scowled but made his way back to her room and settled back into the chair to wait. About twenty minutes later the clinic nurse and the woman they’d rescued appeared. He realised he’d never asked her name and felt momentarily ashamed. She was walking slowly, her arm around the nurses shoulder, but she was freshly bathed, her hair washed and dressed in clean, if slightly too large clothes. She sat down on the edge of the bed and thanked the woman who’d helped her. “I’ll bring you some food,” the nurse told her and she nodded her thanks. 

She and Fenris looked at each other. He noticed she was much prettier than he’d realised earlier, quite beautiful in fact, her blue eyes complemented by chin length dark hair. Although her shirt sleeves covered a lot of her arms, he noticed she did indeed have some rather colourful tattoos adorning her arms, in a style he didn’t recognise. “So…” she said, breaking the silence. 

“So,” he replied awkwardly. “My apologies, I realised I never asked your name.” 

“I’m Neoma,” she replied. He waited but she didn’t volunteer any further information. 

“Alright,” he prompted. “Want to tell me how you ended up in a slaver’s den Neoma?” 

“It’s complicated,” she said. “And I don’t know if I should tell you now or wait for everyone and tell it all in one go.” 

Fenris went very still. “Everyone?” he asked cautiously. As far as he knew she had only seen him and she was unconscious for the most part on their journey to the clinic, she couldn’t have heard everyone’s names. 

She nodded, her eyes never leaving him. “Hawke and the rest.” She looked around. “Is Anders here?” 

“Sleeping,” he murmured. Then, “You did say my name.” 

“What?” she asked, looking confused. 

“When I was carrying you out of the cavern. I could have sworn I heard you say my name, even though I was pretty sure I hadn’t told you, so I thought I was imagining it.” His face turned suspicious. “Who are you? How do you know these things?” 

She sighed. “This is why I figured it might be easier to tell everyone all at once, so I don’t have to keep repeating myself. As I said, it’s complicated.”

He watched her, trying to decide what to do. She stared back calmly. “I’ll send for them,” he said coming to a decision and getting to his feet. He found Anders and woke him, letting him know she was awake and that he was leaving to wash and then return with the others.   
____________

A couple of hours later the group reassembled in the room of the strange woman in Anders’ clinic in Darktown. Anders, Fenris, Varric and Hawke had met her when they raided the slaver’s den but the others looked on curiously. The woman who called herself Neoma was freshly washed and slept briefly after Fenris left. Anders had checked on her and although she was thinner than he would have liked, he knew she’d put on weight as time went on and her body got stronger. He erred on the side of caution and told her not to spend too long with all the visitors, she would tire herself quickly. Neoma smiled non-committedly, she knew they would have many questions and she would try to answer them as best she could. She noticed Fenris hovering protectively around her and smiled to herself, wondering how she’d managed to gain a guardian already. 

When everyone was gathered, she cleared her throat, just loudly enough for them to stop talking amongst themselves and pay attention to her. “Hello. I’m Neoma,” she said. “I met a few of you earlier, but I want to say again, thank you for rescuing me.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. She wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to explain this whole thing to their satisfaction but she’d give it a try. It was more effort than it was worth to try and come up with a story that explained her presence. She might have to ask them to keep it to themselves, I mean, who would believe them anyway, but in general it wasn’t as if she knew how to get back home so she couldn’t help those with less honourable intentions do anything. She’d rehearsed this speech a million times in her head, although to be honest she didn’t know exactly what timeline she was in until she saw Fenris. 

“The story I have to tell is… unusual,” she said. “Some of you might even say unbelievable. In fact I fully expect a certain amount of disbelief as well as a number of questions, but I am going to ask you to hold them until the end.” She noticed them glance at each other, uncertainty written on their faces. Varric of course was furiously making notes and she fought a smile, wondering if this would somehow work its way into one of his stories. 

“I’m not from Thedas,” she said, “And I know that seems impossible, but I’m from a place we call Earth. I’ll be honest, I’m not really sure how I ended up here, I’m going to put it down to magic, mainly because this isn’t something that we have where I’m from. Our society doesn’t have or use magic, we’re science and technology based, in many ways far more advanced than anywhere on Thedas, but in other ways we’re much the same.” She paused to let this statement sink in, and could see the information filtering through their brains. 

Before anyone got too excited and started blurting out questions, she moved on. “In my world, we have… well, the closest way I can think to describe them would be interactive stories. Your world? All… this…” she said waving her hand in the air, “is part of a story I’ve heard, and made choices in, many, many times,” she explained. Neoma took a deep breath. “This means, there are things I know about you, even though we’ve never met before. I know things about you that you haven’t shared with each other, things that may or may not happen depending on the choices you make in the coming years, the outcomes of certain decisions.” 

She glanced around at their shocked faces. “It also means that I don’t know what effect my being here will have on your world,” she said. “I may have already changed things to such an extent that they won’t play out like I anticipate and then any knowledge I have would be useless.” There was silence. “You want proof I’m sure…” she said. “I can understand that. I’m also not going to blurt out things about anyone that they haven’t shared, so don’t worry about that.” She noticed a flicker of relief cross Isabela’s face in particular and knew she was thinking about the Qunari relic. 

“I know it sounds improbable, but I promise you I’m not making it up. To be honest, once I discovered I was in Thedas, I wasn’t even really sure what year it was, or if I would meet up with any of you, so in many ways this is a bit of a relief for me, because at least I kind of know what’s going on around me now.” 

Wow, that all came out way more smoothly and less garbled than she thought. Neoma looked around. “Right… so um, does anyone have any questions?” she asked. 

Silence. Awkward silence. 

Then Fenris cleared his throat. “How long have you been here exactly?” he asked. “And how were you captured by slavers?”

Neoma blushed. Yeah this was the awkward part. “Oh, uh, well you see, when I arrived, which I guess was about two months or so ago and… wait, I should probably backtrack slightly. How I got here, I guess you want to know that yes?” They nodded. “So, I was actually caught in a storm. Where I’m from we have these big electrical storms. The rain was pouring down and I could barely see where I was going. It wasn’t even late at night, but there weren’t a whole lot of other cars on the road. Cars are like… um, big metal carriages that don’t need horses to pull them,” she explained. 

Neoma shrugged. “Either way, the roads were really slippery, my car skidded off the road into a ditch and as I was getting out to try and see if I could push it out, or call someone to help me, I remember seeing, uh… what I thought was a lady with horns, but I’m sure I must have been hallucinating or something. Anyway, the lightning got really bad and I was running to try and find shelter when I think I must have been struck by lightning or something, because there was all this electricity and a flash of light and then I passed out. When I woke up I was lying in the rain here somewhere on the Wounded Coast although I didn’t know that’s where I was at the time.” 

She looked around sheepishly. “Anyway, well, slavery isn’t a thing in most places where I’m from, and… it was actually my own fault. I stopped to ask some people camped nearby where the hell I was….” she blushed again. “I guess I asked the wrong people. I realised quite quickly that these weren’t people I should have approached but it really was too late by that stage. They surrounded me, chased me when I made a run for it and captured me. It was only a few days later I realised where I was when I overheard some of the other slaves talking.” She looked down, embarrassed. “I felt really stupid to be honest, but there wasn’t anything I could do but hope someone would find me.” 

“Why didn’t you fight?” asked Hawke and Neoma could see the thought running through her head that if she didn’t fight she wasn’t much use to them. 

Neoma laughed. “Because where I’m from that’s not a skill that most people have,” she said. “I’m not a warrior, and if I’m a mage it’s something I wouldn’t have the first clue about because we don’t have magic.” She shrugged. “My skills are not exactly marketable in Thedas, or at least not until I can figure out how to apply them here.” 

“So your skills are what exactly?” Varric asked curiously. All eyes swivelled back to her. 

“Well, I was in media,” she said. She thought hard. How could she explain television to people who had no concept of modern technology and film making. “Like… um… well, you know if you go watch a play?” They all nodded. “Do your plays have an intermission after each Act?” They nodded again. “So I made short… moving images that would be played in between each Act, telling people to buy something, or perhaps to come attend the theatre later in the week to watch something else. Sometimes I also put the shows together. It was called television,” she said. “Entertainment.” 

“So.... you were, an artist?” Hawke asked curiously. 

“Yeah that’s about right,” Neoma responded. “I don’t think there’s much use for my skills here, unless I somehow manage to figure something out,” she said glumly. She had the feeling she would have to train to be… something… from scratch, but she didn’t even know where to begin. “But I may be able to be of some assistance anyway,” she said brightening up slightly. “Because the events here are part of a story in my world, I do have some knowledge of how it’s expected to unfold. I just need to know a couple of things first - like, have you already been to the Deep Roads?” 

Hawke and Varric exchanged startled glances. “Yes we have,” Hawke responded. 

“Ok. And, well I’m sorry to ask this Hawke, but as you’re not a mage… um, did Bethany go to the Deep Roads with you or did she stay with your mother?” 

Hawke’s face became blank as she fought to keep her emotions in check as she remembered her brother’s death as they escaped Lothering and her mother’s anguish when she suggested taking Bethany with her to the Deep Roads. “She stayed behind with Mother,” she said finally.

“Ok, so that means she went to the Circle,” Neoma said, more to herself than anyone else but of course they all heard. 

“Why?” Hawke demanded. “What would have happened if she’d come with me?” 

Neoma looked up, looking Hawke in the eyes, deciding to be blunt. It was harsh, but sometimes it was the best way to get people to believe you. “She would have become tainted and if you didn’t take Anders with you she would have died. If Anders was with you, you might have had an opportunity to save her by taking her to the Grey Wardens. But you couldn’t have saved her from the Circle. Those were the only two options.” 

Anders looked alarmed at this revelation.”How do you…?” he started, but Neoma cut him off. “It’s irrelevant,” she replied, knowing he wasn’t allowed to reveal the process of becoming a Grey Warden. “Bethany didn’t go to the Deep Roads, so that information doesn’t need to be revealed,” she said. He nodded, still looking troubled, but he didn’t press the issue in front of everyone. 

Neoma looked back at Hawke. “So that means you’re living in Hightown again?” she said. Hawke nodded. 

Neoma turned to Varric. “Where’s Bartrand?” she asked. Varric’s scowled and his face turned to thunder. 

“That nug-humper ran off after he tried to kill us in the Deep Roads,” he said. “I don’t know where he is right now.” 

Neoma nodded to herself and began muttering something under her breath. Fenris was the only one whose hearing was good enough to catch some of it and all he caught was a word here and there. “Ok, so Act 2… they haven’t… Qunari… Viscount...:” 

There was silence as she muttered to herself, clearly lost in thought. He cleared his throat. “Neoma?” 

“Hmm?” she said, startled out of her musings. She looked around. “Oh, sorry, I was just figuring out some things.” She could feel the fatigue starting to settle on her and she looked around. So many questions written on their faces and she felt quite overwhelmed. “I’m happy to answer anything else as best I can, but perhaps it can wait till tomorrow?” she asked, fighting a yawn. “I can feel everything catching up with me.” 

Before anyone could protest, Anders got to his feet and shooed them out, closing the door behind him. Neoma could hear him arguing with Hawke outside, the wood was very thin, but she was too tired to care. Hawke wasn’t a patient person and didn’t like to be told to hold her questions until later. Neoma knew it would take time, and she knew they were curious about certain things, but she could feel sleep fast approaching and as she laid her head down, her final thought before she drifted off was relief. At least she knew where she was now. Weird as fuck this whole thing might be, but she knew this story like the back of her hand.


	3. Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relationships are complicated. People bond over the smallest things - like tattoos and their meanings. :)

Neoma woke the next morning from what had been a surprisingly restful sleep considering the events of the previous day. She stretched and realised she was hungry. No, not hungry. Starving! She knew she’d need to take it easy when she ate and resist the urge to just stuff her face. While the slavers hadn’t starved her, there were too many slaves and it was too expensive to feed them all well. She hadn’t had enough to eat and she knew she was thin. Certainly thinner and weaker than she’d ever been at home. She rose quietly, not wanting assistance with a bath this time around if at all possible. She missed long, hot showers on Earth and sighed regretfully. Her bare feet touched the floor. It wasn’t as cold as she was expecting and she padded silently towards what passed for a bathroom. She undressed as she walked, pulling her shirt over her head. A bath was in order too, or at least a washcloth something something. 

A throat cleared behind her and she shrieked in surprise. “Jesus Christ!” she swore, clutching her shirt to her chest to cover herself as she spun around. 

Fenris was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, a rueful look upon his face. “Much as I really would like to watch you undress,” he smiled briefly wondering at the expletive she’d used, “I feel like that would be a bit creepy considering how little we know of each other.” A blush tinted his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he cleared his throat again. 

“What the fuck Fenris?!” she exclaimed. “Have you been there the whole night?” 

“Well, not the whole night,” he said. “Anders was here first and then I took over so he could get some sleep.” He wrinkled his nose slightly at the thought of the abomination. “It was just a precaution really, you haven’t had much time to recover.” 

They both realised at the same time she was still standing there clutching her shirt to her chest. 

“You uh… you might want to put that back on for the moment,” he said, gesturing towards her. 

Neoma rolled her eyes and turned her back to him, pulling her shirt back over her head, but not before he saw the colourful tattoos that adorned her body. 

“Excuse my curiosity,” he said, “but your tattoos... they’re unlike anything I’ve seen before.” 

Now fully dressed again, she turned back towards him. “Oh, well… um, how much of them have you seen?” she asked.

“How many do you have?” he asked raising an eyebrow. “The one on your arm is pretty obvious, but I only realised you had more than that now when I saw your um… when your shirt was off…” he stumbled through the latter part of the sentence. It hadn’t come out quite right and he was a bit embarrassed. Strangely, he felt like an idiot around this woman and he was suddenly very self conscious. 

“Well my left arm is completely sleeved,” she said. “And I have on both my sides, most of my left leg, and under my breasts.” She shrugged. “I feel like it’s a work in progress. I get more when I want them.” 

“You got them out of choice?” he asked, surprised. “The only people in Thedas I know with tattoos are the Dalish and… well, slaves. I mean… I was a slave...” he said gesturing towards his own tattoos. 

Neoma laughed. “It’s not like that where I’m from.” She thought for a moment. “Or at least it’s not like that any more. Many years ago, like, maybe in my grandmother’s time, or even my mother’s time to a certain extent. It was perceived that only lower class people, and often people in the military, would get tattoos, and it was considered trashy. Looked down upon by polite society. But now…” she shrugged, “well, now it’s quite socially acceptable, particularly in my field of work. It’s almost expected if you’re in the creative arts that you have tattoos, although that’s not why I have them. I’ve just always loved tattoos. Many of the artists are very talented and it’s like an artwork that you can keep with you always I guess.” She smiled. “I feel like they’re a map of different times in my life. Some are commemorative, some are just things I liked at the time.” She laughed. “The only thing I swore I would never get would be a lover’s name. That’s a curse!” 

Fenris looked at this woman curiously. The more he discovered about her, the more he wanted to know and he found himself drawn into her stories and her mannerisms which were unusual yet endearing in a lot of ways. 

She looked at him slyly. “Would you like to see them more closely,” she asked.

He blushed. Was he so transparent? “I uh… I would,” he said. “But I don’t want you to think… I mean I’m not trying to…”

Neoma laughed. “Calm down Fenris, I don’t think you’re a pervert or anything and I really don’t mind.” She moved closer. “Here,” she said, “we’ll start with some in less revealing places.” She grinned cheekily at him and he found the corners of his mouth inadvertently tugging upwards in a smile. It seems he couldn’t help it. 

She pulled up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal the intricate tattoo on her arm, rotating it so he could see all angles. Fenris leaned in closer to have a look. It was so brightly coloured! Flowers, skulls with intricate floral designs on them, a heart with a flame coming out of it. And writing. Not for the first time Fenris wished he was able to read. “What does it say?” he asked.

She looked down. “Oh, well in my world it’s in a language called Spanish, which I think is much like Antivan here,” she said. “It’s lines from a poem by a famous poet named Pablo Neruda and it means, ‘I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul’.” She smiled at him. “It’s one of my favourite poems.” 

“That’s… beautiful,” he said softly. 

“Would you like to see some of the others?” she asked him. He nodded and a grin lit up her face. She actually really liked showing off her tattoos. She pulled down the sleeve of her shirt and pulled up the leg of her pants, revealing a large ship on her shin, with script along the bottom. “This one says, ‘Calm seas never made for skilled sailors’,” she said. “I started a business many years ago with friends, and I tried to remember this when things got rough,” she laughed, a rueful smile on her face. “The more adversity you face, the more skilled you come out the other side,” she said. She pulled her pants leg up higher, revealing her thigh. Luckily the pants were loose and it was easy enough. She didn’t stop to think that perhaps it wasn’t something respectable girls did in Thedas, and it was only when she looked back at Fenris and noticed he was bright red did she stop to consider how much skin she was revealing. She laughed. “Oh I’m sorry, should I not be showing quite so much skin?” 

He blushed again and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, well, I guess I just didn’t think when you said most of your left leg…” 

Neoma laughed again and Fenris realised how much he liked the sound. It was open and genuine, rising up from her belly without reservation. “If you’re shocked by my leg, think how shocked you’ll be when I show you my stomach!” she teased him. He blushed again, but was curious enough that he still wanted to see them.

“I’d uh… still like to see them anyway,” he replied and she nodded, a twinkle in her eye. She pulled down the leg of her pants and lifted the hem of her shirt up, keeping it covering her breasts, but he was still able to see the tattoos adorning her torso. They were brightly coloured and bold, except for the one under her breasts, which was an intricate, black linework drawing of… a wolf. Fenris’s heart jumped and he leaned in closer to see it better. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Anders said, perhaps more loudly than he’d intended as they both jumped. Neoma turned to look at him as he stood in the doorway. 

“Hi Anders,” she said, with no guilt written on her features, although when he glanced at Fenris, he noticed the tips of his ears were red even if his face didn’t betray his emotions. “I was just showing Fenris my tattoos,” she said, grinning. 

“Your… tattoos…” he said. He felt foolish that he hadn’t noticed she had tattoos. He’d treated her, but he hadn’t actually examined her physically, being more focused on her malnourishment, as he could sense any injuries with his magic, and his assistant had helped her bathe so he hadn’t seen her without clothes. 

“See?” she said, turning around and baring her torso for him. Anders went bright red and he noticed a smirk on Fenris’s face at the mage’s discomfort. 

“Oh, uh… yes, I see,” he said, trying to both look and avert his eyes at the same time. 

She grinned and dropped the hem of her shirt. Anders sagged in relief. Hawke would be so mad at him if she knew he’d been looking at this woman’s body and he immediately felt guilty even though he hadn’t done anything. 

“Well you seem to be feeling better,” he said, trying to change the subject. “You’re standing and out of bed anyway.” 

“Probably still not at full strength,” she replied, “but at least I can walk on my own.” She grinned. “Don’t ask me to run though, I would probably collapse after two minutes!” 

Anders grinned back. “There will be no running, I promise.” 

“I could do with something to eat, if that’s at all possible?” she asked hopefully. 

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” he nodded. 

“Amazing!” she replied. “I’d like to go get clean, but I’ll come help as soon as I’m done?” 

Anders and Fenris nodded and left the room to give her some privacy. The moment they left the room Anders rounded on Fenris. “What the hell were you thinking? Taking advantage of a patient like that!” 

Fenris glared back at the mage. “I don’t know what you think was going on mage, but I was most certainly not taking advantage of her.” 

“Then why was she half dressed when I walked in?” Anders hissed. 

“She told you… she was showing me her tattoos!” 

Anders snorted. “How did you see them in the first place?” 

Fenris had the grace to blush. “She didn’t realise I was in the room and she uh… started taking her clothes off to go bath…” 

Anders went red. 

“I stopped her,” he said indignantly. “What do you think I am?” He scowled, “But I saw some of her tattoos and she asked if I wanted to take a closer look. Did you know she got them out of choice?” he asked. “They weren’t given to her by the slavers, and she’s clearly not Dalish. I was curious because the style is not something I’ve ever seen before.” His scowl deepened. “Did you ever stop to think that perhaps we were actually discussing her, and that it wasn’t sexual in any way?” 

Anders had the grace to look embarrassed. Perhaps he had been too quick to judge the elf and jump to conclusions. It’s not like he actually had any cause to think he had been taking advantage of Neoma, it was more his dislike of Fenris that had given him cause to think that. 

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking, once she’s built up some strength, she’s going to have to leave the clinic and to be honest… well, while I might squat in Danarius’s abandoned mansion… she needs somewhere else to go. I thought perhaps… well, I thought perhaps you might suggest to Hawke that she stay with her. At least temporarily.” 

“With Hawke?” Anders asked in surprise. 

“Think about it. If we believe her story she’s arrived in a world that is not hers, with no marketable skills to speak of. She doesn’t have a job, she’s until recently been a slave… Where is she going to go and how is she going to pay for anything?” 

“Oh,” said Anders. “I didn’t think of that. Yes, perhaps Hawke would be a good idea. At least temporarily.” He nodded as he gave it some more thought. “I’ll speak to her, see what she says.” 

Fenris nodded. “Well we can try at least.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thank you Anders. For everything you’ve done for her.”

Anders looked at him in surprise. “A thank you from the mage hater? Well I can’t say I’m not shocked by that!”

Fenris’s face hardened and Anders belatedly realised how hard it must have been for him to say. He felt a moment of regret at his response. Fenris opened his mouth to come back with a sharp retort when their argument was interrupted by Neoma. 

“Is everything ok?” she asked. “Not arguing again are you?” Both men turned towards her in unison and she giggled at their sheepish expressions. “Well if those expressions aren’t an admission of guilt I don’t know what is!” she laughed. “Come now boys, calm down. Why can’t we all just get along?” she said knowing they wouldn’t understand the quote, but laughing anyway on the inside. 

They both looked at each other awkwardly, uncomfortable at being chastised by this small woman. 

“Right!” she said, breaking the tension. “Shall we get something to eat?” and walked out of the room leaving the two of them to follow awkwardly behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an interim chapter developing the beginnings of a relationships, but still necessary as an interlude I feel. I'm going to start skipping a fair amount of the mundane story, moving on to elements that I enjoy and just kind of summarising parts of the day to day, but this introduces the OC and gives you a bit more of an idea of who she is, what motivates her, her personality and so on.


	4. That's what she said.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neoma is frustrated being left behind all the time and wants to learn how to fight.

The weeks passed much as expected, becoming routine. While Hawke hadn’t initially been happy accepting a guest into her home, she did it as a favour to Fenris and Anders on the understanding that it was temporary until Neoma found a job and somewhere to stay. What she didn’t tell them was she actually quite liked having the girl around. She was funny and interesting to talk to, but also helpful, having no problem with cleaning up even though she wasn’t paid to. She was an easy house guest and Hawke’s mother Leandra got along well with her. 

Neoma was also getting stronger every day. Although she couldn’t go along on their jobs, partly because she tired quite quickly, but mainly because she had no real fighting skills to speak of, it helped that she had a certain amount of knowledge about many of their missions, so was able to provide useful insights and give them an advantage over their enemies with regards to what to expect. If they doubted her origins and the truth of her words initially, those doubts were quickly dispelled as she was able to give them information she couldn’t possibly have known otherwise. 

Neoma wasn’t content to just provide information however. She was frustrated being left behind and she didn’t like the fact that she felt quite defenseless in Kirkwall. She had no combat ability and she felt she needed to learn something, whether it was archery or how to use a dagger, but something. The idea of cowering at the back of a fight or running away made her cringe. When she’d been captured by the slavers she’d felt humiliated at the fact she couldn’t put up a real fight and she was determined to learn something useful. 

Initially she’d thought of approaching Aveline, but while friendly, the Guard Captain still felt somewhat uneasy around her and Neoma didn’t feel comfortable asking her for any kind of training. Isabela intimidated her to be honest, but she figured she might be a good option so was just waiting for the right opportunity. 

Luckily it presented itself at the Hanged Man one evening. She joined the group for drinks while they were discussing their latest encounter with the Invisible Sisters. Hawke had found a map on one of the bodies and they were debating following it to the marked location.

“What do you think Neoma?” asked Isabela.

“Hmm?” Neoma said, startled. She’d been lost in thought and hadn’t really been paying attention to the particulars of the conversation. “What do I think about what?” she replied. 

“The map? From the Invisible Sisters?” Hawke asked her. “Should we follow it?” 

“Oh, yeah sure,” she nodded. “Kill the leaders, collect the reward,” she said, still distracted. 

The group exchanged looks. Neoma was normally quite enthusiastic so this lacklustre attitude was unusual. “Is something wrong?” asked Fenris. “You seem… distracted.”

“Oh… well, um, yes actually,” she said. “I’m tired of being left behind. I’m bored.” 

“Darling,” replied Isabela, “we’d take you with us, but… well,” she looked at the rest of them for support, “you can’t fight.”

“So teach me Isabela!” Neoma exclaimed in frustration. “I can’t learn if no one will show me how! Just because I’m an artist in my world doesn’t mean I can’t learn to be something else in this one.”

She looked around at them hopefully. Isabela looked at Hawke who nodded and shrugged. “If she wants to learn I don’t see why not? We have a few things to do in the next couple of days but you don’t need to be there, I can take one of the others if they’re free.” 

Isabela nodded and turned back to Neoma. “Right then, I’ll teach you, but I warn you, it won’t be easy,” she said.

“Oh I don’t mind!” Neoma said excitedly, grinning. “Thank you! Should I just come find you in the morning? I’ll need to borrow weapons though,” she said frowning.

“It’s fine, I’ll loan you some of my older daggers,” Isabela said smiling at Neoma’s excitement. “But not too early, I’m not at my best first thing in the morning,” she warned. 

Neoma laughed and everyone relaxed slightly. Her laugh was delightful and drew people to her like moths to a flame. Fenris wasn’t the only one among them that loved to hear it. “I promise I won’t wake you too early Isabela,” she promised. 

They stayed for another round of drinks, then Neoma decided to call it a night. As she got up to leave, Fenris rose too. “I’ll walk you home,” he offered. “I’m also done for the night.”

She smiled. She always enjoyed Fenris’s company, no matter how grumpy some of the others found him. “Thanks Fenris, I appreciate it,” she replied. 

As they said their goodbyes and walked out of the Hanged Man, Varric watched them go with a small smile on his face. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his notebook. He scribbled a couple of notes in it and slipped it back into his pocket. 

“What you writing there Varric?” Isabela asked him, drunkenly putting an arm around the dwarf’s shoulders. 

“Nothing that concerns you Rivaini,” Varric responded. “Also, amusing as it might be, you should probably lay off the booze if you don’t want a complete novice to kick your ass tomorrow,” he joked. 

“Pfft!” Isabela exclaimed. “As if…” but she did stop drinking nonetheless…

Neoma and Fenris walked home slowly, Fenris scanning the streets as they went but it seemed like everything was fairly quiet. Aveline had done a good job with the guard patrols and the streets were calm. 

“Once you have a better idea of how to handle a weapon, I’d be happy to train with you,” Fenris said casually. He actually wished he’d thought to offer and felt embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of it. He’d noticed she seemed restless but he wasn’t really used to having friends and so wasn’t quite sure how to ask her what was wrong.

“I think I might be at a disadvantage against you Fenris!” she joked. “That big sword would take me out in one swipe!” 

“It’s not the size of the weapon that’s important,” he said seriously, “it’s the skill of the warrior.” 

Neoma broke into giggles. “That’s what she said!” she exclaimed. 

Fenris looked confused. “That’s what who said?” he asked, confused. 

Neoma just laughed harder at his confusion. Of course she knew it was a reference that he wouldn’t understand, but the confusion on his face was priceless. She managed to get herself under control and waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively. “It’s not the size of the weapon, it’s the skill of the warrior…” she repeated. When he still looked lost she rolled her eyes at him. “It’s innuendo Fenris…” she said. “Sexual innuendo…” 

It took him a second and then he turned bright red as the penny dropped. “Oh, um… yes, uh, well that’s not what I…”

She laughed and put her arm around his waist in a brief, half hug before letting go. “Yes I know that’s not what you meant,” she said. “That’s why I said, ‘that’s what she said!’” She sighed. “Nevermind, sorry, it’s childish, it just struck me as funny, but I guess it’s not really when it’s out of context.” 

Fenris was more preoccupied with the fact that she’d hugged him. He didn’t really like being touched because it aggravated his lyrium tattoos, but this was so brief and intimate he felt quite shy. And if he’d been braver he’d have pulled her into a longer hug but he wasn’t sure if the attraction was one sided or not so he restrained himself. She was friendly with everyone in the group and he didn’t want to imagine something that wasn’t there. 

“The offer still stands however,” he said. “I may favour the greatsword, but I’m passable with daggers, and at the very least I can be a sparring partner for when Isabela isn’t available.” 

Neoma grinned up at him, making his heart stutter a little. “I might just take you up on that,” she smiled. 

All too soon they arrived back at Hawke’s estate. “Well, goodnight Neoma,” Fenris said. “Sleep well.” 

“Thank you for walking me home.” As he turned to go she leaned up and kissed him chastely on the cheek. “Night,” she said, slipping inside and throwing him a small smile as she closed the door. 

Fenris stood completely still outside the door for a moment. The kiss, no matter how innocent, had taken him completely by surprise and he took a moment to breathe and calm himself. With a small smile on his lips he turned and made his way to his mansion a few streets away. 

Inside Hawke’s home, Neoma stood with her back resting on the door, shocked at her own audacity. The kiss on Fenris’s cheek had been completely impulsive and she couldn’t quite believe she’d done it. She liked him, but Fenris he kept his emotions so tightly under control that she wasn’t quite sure how he felt. Ug, she felt like such an idiot when she started laughing about the warrior comment and he didn’t get it. 

She sighed and put her hands over her face. Fuck, what a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting into the relationship between Neoma and Fenris! It gets better and more complicated later on, but I actually wrote the later chapters first so I've been trying to figure out how to navigate the transition between them. Hopefully it's not too disjointed.


	5. Try harder!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neoma starts training with Isabela. Evening revelry and awkwardness at the Hanged Man.

“You don’t have a shield Neoma, you need to learn to block with your blade or move out of the way!” yelled Isabela taking another swipe at her. 

“I’m trying!” Neoma hissed. 

“Try harder!” the pirate smirked, attacking again. “If you were in a real fight you’d be dead already!” 

Neoma grumbled but dodged away from Isabela’s practice blades. She’d been practising with Isabela for about a week, spending a few hours each day learning the basics and sparring with the pirate. Today Hawke and Fenris had shown up to watch. Neoma hadn’t seen much of the elf since he’d walked her home and she felt very self-conscious with him watching. 

“She’s actually much quicker than Isabela would have her believe,” said Hawke quietly. 

“Of course,” replied Fenris. “But she still doesn’t have the necessary blade skills and rather have her believe she’s too slow so she learns to anticipate better, than get complacent and rely on her speed.” 

Hawke hummed in agreement and turned to watch the pair again. It was true what Fenris said. Neoma was quick on her feet and her reflexes were good, she could dodge fairly easily, but her bladework was sloppy. It was clear she’d never used a weapon before and was hesitant handling it, because she didn’t seem to want to strike. The reason her blocks always collapsed when her opponent pressed her was because she seemed to be holding back, perhaps afraid of striking too hard and hurting someone. Hawke had an idea. Catching Isabela’s eye, she picked up a pair of practice blades and joined the fray. 

Instead of waiting for Isabela to tap out however, she launched herself at Neoma with a battle cry as Isabela rolled away. 

Startled, Neoma turned and blocked instinctively, Hawke’s blades applying pressure until she was forced to push back or be pinned to the ground. The practice blades weren’t sharp enough to cut, but they certainly could leave a bruise. Neoma pushed back and rolled away but Hawke didn’t relent, she kept coming, striking faster and faster. When she noticed Neoma was still dodging her, she switched tactics. 

“You really aren’t very good at this you know,” she taunted. “I don’t know why you’re bothering.” 

Neoma frowned, hurt by Hawke’s statement, and almost stopped fighting but Hawke didn’t relent. She kept applying pressure, not allowing Neoma to stop and think, forcing her to act on instinct. 

“An artist… Maybe that’s useful where you’re from, but here? Only the nobility have the luxury of indulging in the likes of that - were you nobility that you’re so useless at anything else?” 

“That’s not fair Hawke, and you know it,” replied Neoma, her breath coming in gasps. She wasn’t as fit as Hawke and she was developing a stitch in her side. They circled each other, step, cross, step, cross. “My world is very different to Thedas.” 

Hawke swung at her again, forcing her to step backwards. “Were you as useless in that world as you are in this one,” Hawke scoffed, trying to goad Neoma into fighting back. 

“I’m not useless!” she replied, gritting her teeth. All Neoma’s self doubt was starting to surface. She had felt useless since she arrived here and she wondered if this was what Hawke really thought of her.

“Sure you’re not,” replied Hawke, swipe, dodge. “That’s why you managed to get yourself captured by slavers within the first half hour of arriving here.” 

“It’s not my fault there are nations here who still have such a barbaric practice! I would never have considered they were slavers!” Neoma argued, blocking Hawke’s blades. Hawke noticed her blocks were getting more forceful and grinned. 

“No, but it is your fault you got caught,” she taunted.

“Fuck you!” Neoma yelled at her. “You wouldn’t survive five minutes in my world!” She stepped forward angrily, blades raised. 

“I’m the kind of person who’ll survive anywhere,” Hawke said. “You on the other hand, you’ll die the moment there’s no one to protect you, forgotten and alone.”

Neoma lost it. With a yell she launched herself at Hawke. She might not be a particularly good fighter, but that anger lent her momentum and strength and while Hawke could block her easily, she force of her blows pushed her backwards. As Neoma raised her blade slightly too high, Hawkes ducked underneath her arm, spun and wrapped her arms around her opponent, bringing the blade to her throat. 

Neoma froze, still angry but feeling it melt away. She dropped her arms to her sides, not relinquishing the blades but yielding nonetheless. As soon as Hawke felt the tension go out of her body she released her. 

“Good,” she said. “You still need to get that bladework right, but you do actually have the power in your strikes once you have motivation. Also, it was fine now because I was making a point, but don’t let your anger rule your actions. You’ll make a mistake because you’re being emotional.”

Neoma spun towards her in shock. “What?” she said. “All that stuff you said…”

Hawke grinned at her. “Of course I didn’t mean it,” she replied. “But you weren’t hitting hard enough. You were afraid of hurting Isabela which means you weren’t learning how hard you have to hit people in a fight. I had to make you angry enough for you to realise that.”

Neoma stared at her in disbelief, glancing at Isabela who grinned at her from the sidelines. 

“Neoma,” Hawke said to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re quick, you’re light on your feet, but you can’t spend the whole fight dodging. You need to fight. You need to learn to hit someone with a blade, not just tap at them. We might go easy on you, but a bandit just wants you dead.” 

Neoma swallowed hard. Hawke was right, of course she was right. She had been holding back, but it was also because she had never had to use a weapon before, she didn’t really know how. “I guess… I just… Weapons are not something people use on a daily basis at home,” she said. “I’ve never had to use one before, and certainly not a sword…” She sighed. “But I see your point. You’re right.”

Hawke nodded and grinned. “Of course I’m right.” She spun on her heel. “Right, I’m sure that’s enough for today, but you also need to get fitter. You get tired quickly. Tomorrow we’ll do some strength and stamina exercises too,” she stated.

Neoma groaned but nodded

“Well that was fun!” Isabela said brightly. “I must say, you kept your temper for longer than I thought you would.” 

Neoma glared at the pirate who laughed. “Let’s go for a drink! Alcohol makes everything better!” she declared. 

They made their way to the Hanged Man, Neoma feeling her muscles aching already and she was sure she going to feel it tomorrow. This was worse than a hard workout at the gym! She grimaced as they made their way inside. Yuk. The smell of beer and unwashed bodies wasn’t something she ever really got used to. People here did not wash often enough as a general rule. 

“Something wrong Artist?” Varric said appearing next to her. 

Neoma turned to him. “Artist?” she asked. 

“Well everyone gets a nickname,” he said, grinning. 

“Yeah I know… but Artist?” she said, rolling her eyes. “C’mon Varric, there must be something more original.” 

“Are you questioning my nickname giving abilities?” he replied in mock horror.

“I most certainly am!” she laughed. “I mean, you have a whole world of unknown words to choose from, or some reference to my tattoos, or I dunno… something… and you went with Artist?” 

“My lady, you wound me…” Varric replied, but his smirk belied his words. “Fine I’ll come up with something else. Just know I’ll be paying very close attention to what you say,” he warned with a twinkle in his eye. 

Neoma just laughed as they all made their way to Varric’s rooms. 

“You never did answer my question however,” he reminded her. “Is something wrong?” 

“Just a bit of pain from training with Isabela and Hawke” she replied. “It will fade, but I’ve been using muscles I didn’t even know existed!” she joked.

“Well keep at it. I’m impressed you’re willing to learn a new set of skills to be honest. Most people would get really nervous about that considering your job was… not all that physical from what I understand?” 

She grinned, pleased for some reason that Varric approved. She always had the impression that while he was always friendly and jovial, it took a lot to impress him and she felt a little glow of acceptance. “Thanks Varric, I’m trying,” she said with a smile. They chatted while everyone settled down, the drinks flowing freely as everyone got slightly drunker. 

Neoma noticed Fenris watching her out of the corner of his eye but every time she looked at him, he stared into his wine glass. She felt like an idiot. She shouldn’t have kissed him, even if it was on the cheek. Maybe she could try to brush it off as a friendly gesture that meant nothing? Or just ignore it and maybe they would both pretend like it didn’t happen. She concentrated on her wine, listening to the conversation flow around her as the group laughed and joked about inconsequential things. Fenris stayed his usual silent and broody self and she didn’t feel confident enough to go and talk to him directly.

“I have to go to the Gallows tomorrow,” Hawke said casually, taking a sip of her beer. “I know not everyone feels comfortable there,” she glanced at Anders and Merrill as she said it, “but I thought you might like to accompany me Neoma.” 

“Huh?” said Neoma, caught off guard while daydreaming. “Sorry, what?”

Hawke smiled. “I said I have to go to the Gallows tomorrow, I thought you might like to accompany me? Change of scenery,” she said shrugging. 

“Oh, yeah sure, that sounds good,” Neoma said, her stomach fluttering. Cullen was at the Gallows. She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, the romance aspect of the game, but suddenly confronted with the fact that she was feeling all anxious about Fenris and the prospect of seeing Cullen, even if it was pre-Inquisition Cullen, made her palms sweat. She had always romanced Cullen in Inquisition, even when trying others in different playthroughs, Cullen was her favourite. And Dorian of course, but only when she played as a male Inquisitor. 

Hawke raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t want to go…” she said. She was confused. Neoma had said she wanted to get out more, but now seemed anxious about the prospect. 

“Oh, no it’s not that…” Neoma said awkwardly. All eyes turned to her as the conversation stuttered to a halt. She looked around nervously.

“So what is it?” Hawke prompted, more curious than she wanted to let on. 

“It’s uh… well, it’s Cullen,” she muttered. 

“The Knight-Captain?” Hawke said, surprised. “What about him?” 

“He has… quite a big role to play in the next few years,” she replied, feeling very uncomfortable. “It’s not a problem, I just uh… well I had forgotten he was here in Kirkwall until you mentioned the Gallows and…” Neoma shrugged. “There’s no problem, I just suddenly felt nervous.” 

Hawke frowned. “Is there something I should know?” she said. “Is he going to do something bad?” 

“What?” said Neoma. “Oh no! Nothing bad. He’s important is all.” She sighed. “Hawke. It’s nothing. Really. I told you, I had forgotten he was here.”

Hawke eyed her, certain there was something she wasn’t saying, but didn’t press it further. “Alright. Well, then if you don’t have anything else to do tomorrow, Fenris, Varric, Isabela, you’re with me. And Neoma of course. I’ll leave the mages behind.” 

Everyone nodded. They didn’t have anything better to do the next day so might as well go with Hawke. The conversation started up again. Neoma, feeling more comfortable now the attention was off her, got up from her chair and went and sat down next to Fenris, who was at the far end of the table. 

“Hi,” she said. 

“Hi,” he replied. 

There was an awkward pause. Then both started speaking at the same time. 

“I just wanted to apologise…” Neoma started. 

“Neoma I…” Fenris said at the same time. 

They both stopped. 

“Sorry, you go first,” he said. 

She blushed, drawing a curious glance from Varric who was watching the two out of the corner of his eye. There was definitely something going on here and considering how reserved Broody normally was, this was very interesting indeed. 

“I just wanted to apologise for the other night,” she said softly, not wanting the others to overhear. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, even if it was on the cheek, I feel like I made you uncomfortable and I’m sorry.” Her face was bright red and felt like it was on fire.

Fenris didn’t say anything for a few moments and she was starting to feel increasingly awkward. “Right, well, um I’ll just…” she said, preparing to get up.

Fenris reached out and grabbed her hand which was resting on her knee below the table. To anyone else, except perhaps Varric who was watching closely, it would simply look like they were having a conversation, heads leaning closer together to hear each other over the noise. “Neoma,” he said softly. She looked at him, her cheeks still hot. “I uh… well, I just wanted to say that… the attention was not… unwelcome,” he said awkwardly. He wasn’t very good at talking about his feelings and he also felt foolish for avoiding her over the past week. He thought perhaps she’d changed her mind. 

Neoma squeezed his hand, feeling her heart flutter. “Oh…” she said. “Right.” She couldn’t stop her mouth from twitching up in a smile. “Um… good…” She leaned back in her chair, sliding her hand out of his, and sipped her wine to hide her smile, her knee resting against his. 

Varric, still watching inconspicuously, caught the small smile that played over the elf’s face and grinned to himself. This was going to get very interesting indeed.


	6. The Knight-Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neoma meets pre-Inquisition Cullen, impulsively giving him some advice. She also fights in her first battle.

Walking into the Gallows, even if it was just the courtyard, was a surreal experience for Neoma. It was quite close to the game representation however, and she knew by instinct where everything was situated. The whole place felt oppressive, as if the history of the place was manifest in physical form and she shivered.

Fenris noticed the expression on her face and hung back. “Does it make you as uncomfortable as it makes me?” he asked curiously. 

“It’s awful,” she replied. “I don’t know how people can actually live here.” 

Fenris hummed in agreement, nodding. “After a while I think you become immune to the reaction it evokes within you.” 

“And of course if the purpose of one group is to oppress the other, that works in their favour,” she argued. 

Fenris frowned. He knew she didn’t feel the same way about mages as he did, but they’d never really discussed it and it made him uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to argue with her but she cut him off. 

“I know how you feel about mages Fenris, I don’t want to have this argument with you. Right now we’re going to agree to disagree, I have too much on my mind to be having this conversation here,” she said firmly. Her tone brooked no argument and Fenris, who’d never really seen this side of her kept his mouth shut, not wishing to antagonise her when she clearly felt uncomfortable in this environment.

Her eyes scanned the courtyard, noticing the tense and uncomfortable stance of many of the mages. She sighed. In theory she understood why the templars existed, but she truly felt that oppression was not the answer. Pushing the information to the back of her mind she followed Hawke as she made her way towards Knight-Captain Cullen. 

Hawke wasn’t actually at the Gallows to see Cullen, but after Neoma’s reaction the previous day, she was curious to see their interaction and made a point to go over and speak to him.

Neoma stuck close to Fenris at the back of the group. She was both nervous and curious about seeing Cullen. Not that he would have known who she was, but knowing how close she and Fenris were becoming she felt conflicted. When playing the game there was never any consideration that you might encounter multiple romantic partners in one setting because you played as different characters, so this was a bit strange for her, especially since she hadn’t realised any of this was real at the time. It was perhaps more awkward in her head than anywhere else, but still she felt anxious, like having multiple boyfriends in the room at the same time. Don’t be silly, she scolded herself. Cullen doesn’t even know who you are, this will be a normal conversation between him and Hawke and you’ll leave probably not even having spoken to him.

They approached him, standing in his customary in-game spot (she smiled to herself at that) as he was having a conversation with one of the recruits. The recruit made himself scarce as Hawke approached and Cullen turned his attention to the approaching group. 

“Hawke,” Cullen said. “What can I do for you?”

Hawke hadn’t actually thought further than putting him and Neoma in close proximity so she answered vaguely, “Is there anything I can help the templars with?” 

Cullen smiled regretfully. “Oh you’re kind to offer but after what happened with Tarohne three years ago, the Knight-Commander has closed ranks. Our own men undergo weekly questioning and she’s eliminated all work with outsiders.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to keep recruitment up to maintain our numbers.” 

“I keep hearing about the Knight-Commander,” Hawke said. “When do I get to meet her?” 

“I’m afraid she’s become more reclusive since you came to Kirkwall, Hawke,” Cullen replied shaking his head. “These last three years especially she’s been very suspicious of outside influences.” To himself he muttered, “I almost wonder if something happened.” He shook himself from his reverie and Hawke began speaking to him about the Qunari. 

Neoma listened with half an ear. She vaguely heard him express his doubts to Hawke about Meredith and the Qunari, but his eyes kept flicking to her curiously. She wondered if it was because he hadn’t seen her with their group before or if there was another reason. She was glad he looked like a younger version of the Cullen from Inquisition, she’d always preferred that particular version of Cullen. Hair slightly longer and more unruly than Inquisition too. She smiled to herself, no wonder Varric’s nickname for him was Curly. No scar on his lip she noticed, that must have come later, perhaps in the final battle of Act 3, or perhaps after the events of the second game. She chastised herself, she really needed to stop referring to everything in terms of the games. It would be complicated to explain why she was referring to events in terms of Acts...

Hawke, disappointed that there didn’t seem to be much recognition or interaction between Cullen and Neoma, said her goodbyes. “I was just leaving,” she said to Cullen, intending to go speak to the herbalist to pick up any additional tasks. 

“Maker watch over you Hawke,” he replied, a little relieved to see her go. She made him uncomfortable to be honest, always asking difficult questions - the answers to which he grappled with himself. 

As they walked away Neoma hesitated, remaining behind, considering. She saw Fenris turn and look at her curiously and on impulse she turned back to Cullen and placed her hand on his arm. He looked at her in confusion. He’d noticed this new addition to Hawke’s group and he felt a strange sense of familiarity, but he was pretty sure he had never met her before. “I’m sorry, do I know you? I feel like we’ve met, but I’m fairly certain I would have remembered...” 

She smiled at him and shook her head. “We haven’t met,” she said. “I joined Hawke not too long ago. My name is Neoma.” She hesitated but then decided to just plough ahead with her decision. She might not change things, but she’d always felt Cullen had been through a lot, and she wanted to provide some reassurance. 

“I just wanted to tell you Knight-Captain… Cullen…” she said, using his first name and drawing a raised eyebrow from him at the familiarity. “You’re a better man than you think you are. You’re better than Meredith. And you’ll be a great leader. I know you’ve had your doubts and you’ve been through a lot, but don’t let your guilt over the past define you.” 

She patted his arm, smiling at his furrowed brow as he opened his mouth to ask questions, but she didn’t give him a chance, hurrying back towards Hawke and her group, Cullen staring after her in confusion.

“What was that?” Fenris asked her curiously as she rejoined them. Neoma smiled and shook her head. “Nothing. Just some advice,” she said and refused to say more. 

Fenris glanced back at the templar and noticed him looking in their direction as he rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly lost in thought.

Fenris suppressed the unexpected surge of jealousy in his gut.   
____________

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Hawke received a new list from the herbalist, but as it required a trip to the Wounded Coast and it was already afternoon, they decided to make the journey the following day, knowing they would likely need to camp overnight. Neoma, pleased at the opportunity to do something useful, was happy to join them again. 

True to her word, Hawke made Neoma do strength and stamina training for a few hours after they returned to Kirkwall, and by the time they were done, all Neoma wanted to do was roll into bed. Every muscle ached in protest. 

The next morning they set off for the Wounded Coast, intent on finding the Harlot’s Blush flower. Neoma had always found these tasks tedious in the game and had often skipped them, but she supposed there was a difference when actual money was involved. 

They tracked it down eventually, but as they were making their way back through the winding path, Hawke shouted a warning, spotting a trap. Moments later, a group of bandits attacked, and everyone drew their weapons. “Neoma, stay back,” Fenris yelled at her, moving into position. Varric and Anders were at the rear providing covering fire and long range spells, Fenris and Hawke at the forefront of the line as they set about cutting a swathe through the enemy. 

Neoma hung back uncertainly, wanting to help but sure she would just get in the way. She watched all of them anxiously, hoping the bandits weren’t very organised. 

Of all of them, her eyes were consistently drawn to Fenris who swung his word like a demon possessed. She heard one of the bandits yell out to take down the warrior, and Neoma turned to see an archer drawing a bead on the elf. Adrenaline kicked in and with a yell she drew her daggers and descended on the surprised archer, her blade going through his stomach as he collapsed. She’d never actually stabbed anyone before and the feel of the metal going through flesh made her feel vaguely ill. Fenris had turned in surprise, and the remaining bandits, who had lost focus when she joined the battle, were easily dispatched. 

She grinned and turned to Fenris, expecting at least a nod of thanks but instead he scowled at her. Her smile faded. He clearly wasn’t impressed but instead of saying anything he turned away, ignoring her and focussing on looting the bandits for anything of value. 

Neoma felt hurt. She had been worried about Fenris, not thinking about any danger, and had merely acted on instinct. She bit her lip to stop the tears welling in her eyes.

“Nice one,” Varric said, patting her on the arm as he walked past, Bianca now strapped on his back again. “Don’t pay any attention to Broody,” he winked. “You did a good job.” 

Well at least someone appreciates it she thought to herself morosely as the dwarf walked away. Neoma wiped her daggers, remembering the sensation of them cutting into the man’s flesh and promptly turned and vomited on the ground.


	7. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok I finally got to the smutty part! Fenris is mad at Neoma for fighting bandits (mainly because he was scared), and then of course... well, we all know where that leads... :)

“How could you be so reckless?!” he shouted at her. “You could have been killed!”  
“Fenris I said I was sorry!” she argued. “It wasn’t intentional.” 

“I just don’t understand what you were thinking!” he yelled at her. “You have no fighting skills to speak of, and yet you leap into danger like you’re invincible. Even Anders can’t bring you back from the dead Neoma!” He glared at her, irritated that she just looked back at him calmly. 

They had returned to Kirkwall after gathering the stuff for the herbalist, Fenris seething at Neoma’s recklessness the entire way and giving her the cold shoulder. Now they were home safe, he’d followed her back to Hawke’s and began to berate her. He tried to hold on to his anger but mainly he was just relieved. He had been so scared when he saw her draw her daggers and turn on that bandit attacking him. Just one lucky arrow and he could have lost her. And then it scared him that he cared so much about someone else that he grew angry. How dare she put herself in danger! The fact that she had saved his life hadn’t escaped him and he felt bad for not comforting her when she vomited. That must have been her first kill. “Promise me you’ll never do something like that again.” 

“You know I can’t promise that,” she said. “I will promise not to do anything reckless unless it’s absolutely necessary, but I need to train more. I can’t spend my life here not knowing how to fight.” Fenris frowned but knew she was right. She did need to learn how to fight properly. He turned away from her in frustration. 

“I don’t know how many times you want me to say sorry,” she said softly. “I know you’re mad and I know it was reckless.” She reached out and took his hand, startling him. There had been this growing thing between them since the night in the Hanged Man, but the sudden, quite intimate gesture took him by surprise and dampened his anger. “I’ve apologised, I’ll try not to do it again, can we move on now?” 

Her hand in his triggered something in him and he spun towards her, grabbing her shoulders roughly, fully intending to frighten her into understanding the gravity of the situation. She stared at him, eyes slightly wide in shock at the suddenness of his movement, and then unexpectedly her lips were on his. He froze for a moment and then returned the kiss. She pushed herself against him, turning him and pinning him against the wall of her bedroom. His heart hammered in his chest, the surge of desire and fear mingling together. He pulled away, breathing heavily, fumbling with the buckles on his armour. She reached to help him and soon his armour was on the floor. He reached for her again, pulling her close, feeling her body pressed against his, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt to feel the smooth skin of her back. Her hands tangled in his hair as she kissed him urgently, her tongue slipping inside his mouth. 

Desire overtook him and his tongue embraced hers, feeling the ridges on the roof of her mouth as he pulled her tighter towards him, feeling the heat of her through his shirt. His body responded accordingly and he felt himself harden at the feel of her against him. Pulling her closer, his hands moved downwards to her ass, cupping it and drawing her towards him. He wanted, no, needed her badly.

“Wait,” she murmured, then pulling back, “No, Fenris, wait, stop.” Her use of the word stop brought him back to reality and he jerked back slightly. He knew what it was like to be forced to do something you didn’t want to, and he was damned if he was going to force himself on her. 

“Apologies, I shouldn’t have…” he started and she shook her head. 

“It’s not that… I just… I have to tell you something.” 

“Now?” he said in disbelief. 

“Yes, now,” she replied regretfully. “I just.. if we do this… there’s a chance that you’ll begin to remember… everything.” 

“Remember?” he asked, pulling back from her reluctantly. “What do you mean?”

“Remember everything from before you were a slave,” she said and sighed. “It’s complicated to explain and I feel like this is really the wrong time to be doing this but there are certain things you need to understand.” She turned away and began pacing. “In… in the story, well, I can’t remember if I told you that it was told from Hawke’s perspective and as the person making the choices, you also had the option of… um, well, entering into a relationship…” She looked at him awkwardly as his eyebrows raised. 

“A relationship? With Hawke?” he said disbelievingly. “But she’s with Anders…” 

Neoma smirked. “Yes, well this Hawke is with Anders… but in another version, well, she had the option of being with you.” Fenris frowned at this information. “Ok…” he said. “And…?” 

“Well… to be honest,” she said, “Um, well, I almost always chose you…” 

A smile appeared on Fenris’s face and he stepped towards her. “And so this is a problem why?”

Neoma rolled her eyes at him but forged ahead. “So, in the story, well, after you and Hawke um, well you know, you started remembering things in flashes, but then they slipped away afterwards.” She frowned. “I’m not sure if the same thing will happen here, and I just… I want you to be prepared in case. To have a choice.” 

He looked at her carefully. “I feel like there’s something else you haven’t said.”

She grimaced. “Yes well, you can’t do… this, a relationship,” she said gesturing to the two of them, “afterwards. It’s too overwhelming and… you leave. Not the group, I mean you stay with everyone, but you leave Hawke.” She looked down and said softly, “You might leave me… I don’t know...” She looked at him, willing him to understand. “I don’t know how much I’ve changed things by being here Fenris. Things might play out the same way, or maybe it was something to do with Hawke and everything will stay the same, I just don’t know...” 

Fenris was silent. Neoma could see he was agitated. She should have told him all this before, she chastised herself. She just didn’t think things between them would happen this quickly. She thought she had until after the confrontation with Hadriana before things reached this point, but perhaps since she wasn’t Hawke it had changed the timeline. It had caught her off guard.

“I just wanted to tell you, I don’t want you to go into this blind - it wouldn’t be fair for me to know and you not to.” Still he said nothing and she felt her heart sink. “Right, ok.” She stepped back from him. “Well look, it’s fine.” She turned to go and felt a hand on her arm.

“I didn’t say no,” he said, his voice rough, pulling her gently towards him. “I just needed to…” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I’m… I’m willing to take a chance if you are. Unless you want me to go? Say the word and I shall.” 

She looked up at him earnestly. She knew she was being selfish. She wanted to spare him from any pain, but still the words escaped her mouth. “You don’t have to go Fenris.” 

He pulled her to him, pressing his lips softly against hers. He felt her shiver and his desire overtook him. He kissed her harder, felt her respond and pushed her against the wall, desperate to feel her skin against his. 

Frantically they shed their clothes and as they fell to the floor Fenris picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and carried her to the bed, moving over her and pressing his body against hers, desire igniting his tattoos and making her groan in pleasure as they thrummed against her skin. 

Their coupling was passionate but urgent, as if the pent up desire was fast approaching boiling point. Every touch of his fingers on her skin left trails of fire in their wake - when he trailed his fingers over her tattoos, when he cupped her breasts and ran his palms over her nipples, when he reached between her legs to rub his fingers against her clit - and when he entered her it was like time slowed so she could feel and remember every moment. Every thrust, every moan, every kiss, seemed to etch itself into her memory. She briefly wondered if it was the proximity to the lyrium, making it something akin to a drug induced experience, because this was unlike any sexual encounter she’d ever had. 

They both approached their peak, their bodies moving together in perfect sync as the elf thrust inside her, her hips raising to meet his. Neoma cried out as she found release, clutching at Fenris, her nails digging into his back as she tightened around him. Fenris stiffened as he climaxed and emptied himself into her, the feel of her eclipsing all other thought as they both collapsed, intertwined, and spent. 

Neoma drifted off, Fenris spooned behind her, the lyrium of his tattoos tingling slightly against her back, and awoke some time later to find herself alone in bed. 

She sat up, saw Fenris standing by the fire, dressed, with his back to her. A chill came over her as she recognised this exact scenario from the game. She knew what was going to happen and yet the sadness in her heart still took her by surprise. 

He heard her stir behind him and turned, his expression tortured and the sadness he could see on her face made it worse. “You know...” he said, his voice filled with regret. “I’m so sorry…”

She shook her head sadly. “I know. It’s too much, too soon.” She looked down and sighed. “I understand.” 

“Neoma…” he said. “I didn’t realise, when you said… about the remembering. I didn’t know it would be like that. It’s frustrating and… and overwhelming.”

“Fenris, I was prepared for this,” she said sadly. “I knew it might happen. I shouldn’t have encouraged you. I guess I just hoped… ” she said feeling guilty. “It’s fine, you need to get your head in order. Do that.”

“Neoma… I’m sorry.” She nodded stiffly and he turned and walked away, leaving her clutching the blankets to her chest as she tried to still the pain in her heart. 

____________

Fenris stalked back to his mansion, his thoughts in turmoil. Even though she’d warned him it had taken him by surprise. Their encounter had been so intense, not just sexually, but emotionally. He’d never felt this way about anyone, but then in the moments afterwards, the memories came rushing back only to disappear moments later, like water slipping through his fingers. 

He slammed his fist into a wall as he walked, relishing the pain that flared in his knuckles, feeling angry at himself. Angry for not listening when she told him what could happen. Angry at the reappearance and subsequent loss of the memories. Angry at himself for falling for her. Angry and hating himself that he felt that way. He didn’t deserve such happiness. 

He was approaching his mansion when he heard a voice behind him. “You want to talk about it?” He whirled around to see Hawke leaning against a wall. 

He scowled. “Not particularly. What are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just visit my friend?” she said innocently. 

“You want something,” he growled. “What is it? This isn’t a good time.” 

“Well you stormed out of my house looking like a thundercloud and from the sounds that were coming from Neoma’s room not long before that I thought things had gone quite well up until that point.” 

Fenris’s scowl deepend. He’d been caught up in the moment and hadn’t stopped to consider that Hawke might have heard them. “Yes, well… they did, and then they didn’t.” 

“So again, do you want to talk about it?” 

He grimaced. “She warned me before we… before…” he shook his head, “anyway, she told me I might start… remembering,” he said. 

“Remembering?” Hawke asked. “Remembering what?”

“From before I was a slave. Before I got these,” he said gesturing to his tattoos. “And I took the risk because… well it doesn’t matter why, but I took the risk and I didn’t know how overwhelming it would be.”

“The memories or the sex?” Hawke replied, her mouth quirking up in a lewd smile. 

Fenris huffed a soft laugh despite himself. “Both. But I meant the memories.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I couldn’t deal with it, so I left.” He closed his eyes, grimacing. “What’s worse is she understood. She told me I would leave, and I didn’t believe her, even tried to convince her I wouldn’t… but then I couldn’t deal with it and I left… and she understood.” He was repeating himself but he couldn’t get his thoughts in order.

Hawke eyed him thoughtfully. “How do you feel about her?” she asked. “Do you love her?” Hawke had come to care for the strange girl from another world. She counted her more as sister than friend even if she’d never been good at expressing her emotions, preferring to mask them with humour. 

“What?” Fenris said sharply. “Love? No, this isn’t about love, I just…”

“Isn’t it?” Hawke asked. “Do you care about her?”

“Well, yes of course, I mean I care about all our friends…” 

“Do you care about me?” 

“Of course, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Hawke stepped closer to him and Fenris took an involuntary step backwards, his back hitting the wall behind him. “You care about me,” she said, her voice getting lower and huskier. “Do you think about me in the early hours of the morning when you can’t sleep?”

“Hawke…” Fenris said, feeling uncomfortable.

She stepped even closer. “Do you think about what it would be like to feel my skin against yours?” 

Fenris swallowed loudly. She was a little too close. He felt hot and his stomach churned.

“Do you think about feeling my lips against yours?” she said, stepping right up to him, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

That was the last straw. “Hawke stop,” he said, putting his hand on her and pushing her away, gently but firmly. “No, I don’t think of you like that.”

She grinned. “I know,” she said, stepping back, her voice back to its usual tone. “I was making a point.” She shrugged. “You don’t think of me like that, but you think of her like that. If you just wanted sex you could have tried it with me now but you didn’t. You might not want to use the word love, but at the very least you feel things for her that you don’t feel for your other friends. Isabela for example has been very open about her attraction to you, and you’ve never… indulged. It’s not like you haven’t had the opportunity.” 

Fenris stayed pressed against the wall for a moment longer, then sagged slightly in relief. Hawke was beautiful but he wasn’t attracted to her and this encounter had made him exceptionally uncomfortable. Plus she was with Anders and he could only imagine what might have happened if they’d slept together. Actually he mused to himself, that in itself would be a reason to do it, just to piss off the abomination. Her voice broke him from his reverie.

“My advice Fenris? Take the time you need to sort your shit out, but don’t wait too long to tell her how you feel. She’ll move on and you’ll have lost your chance. I get the distinct impression that’s not something you would take well.”

Abruptly Hawke disappeared back into the night and Fenris was left standing alone outside his borrowed mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was actually really hard for me to write. I'm not used to writing sex scenes, I feel quite awkward, so it's something that I spent a while on trying not to feel too cheesy while writing it. I think it came out ok, I guess a bit of practice will make it easier. Anyway, I spent a while thinking about how the lyrium in his tattoos would affect someone who comes from a world where there isn't such a thing, and how such close proximity might create an unexpected, drug like experience. Hope you guys enjoyed!
> 
> Oh! And 2 chapters in one day! I think I was on a roll... :)


	8. That was unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen can't stop thinking about what Neoma told him and goes looking for her. Neoma is drowning her sorrows at the Hanged Man after her break up with Fenris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I've had it written for a while but have been spending time rewriting bits and obsessing a little over whether it flows and it's right. I'm not 100% happy, but if I didn't post it now I could have spent another month changing small things and procrastinating.
> 
> Anyway, I've always thought about "what ifs" in cases like these. What if you were to meet different romantic partners at the same time of your life? Who would you choose? How would telling someone about their reactions and elements of their future change their character development? I know Cullen isn't really perfectly canon in this chapter. He's bolder than we know him, but sometimes people take risks and act on impulse when they're emotional about something and I felt like this was the right time for Cullen to assert himself. Especially if you feel a connection with someone - would you take a risk? He's also a good guy though :)
> 
> I'm rambling, sorry. Enjoy!

Cullen paced. 

He was unable to shake the conversation he had a few days ago with the girl from Hawke’s group. What was her name? Something with an N… Neoma, that was it. 

The more he thought about it, the more he was certain he’d never met her before - he would have remembered. And yet, there was something familiar he couldn’t place - as if he knew her from somewhere. 

He sighed in frustration. His curiosity and confusion was an itch he was unable to scratch. Who was she? And what did she mean by all those vague comments? That he was better than Meredith? How did she know he felt guilty about what had happened at Kinloch Hold? He turned it over in his mind for the millionth time but still came back with nothing. 

He rubbed his neck. It had been a long day and his shoulders were hurting in what seemed to be a perpetual state of tension. He really should just eat some dinner and go to bed early, he wasn’t on duty tonight. Why was he obsessing over this woman? 

A voice startled him from his reverie. “Is everything ok Knight-Captain, Ser?” 

Cullen looked up at Keran, a promising Templar Recruit. After all the drama with Tarohne and the recruits, Cullen was glad Hawke had convinced him to keep Keran in the Order. He was talented and intelligent. 

Keran noticed Cullen had been distracted the last few days. His thoughts seemed elsewhere even if he still carried out all his duties impeccably.

“Everything’s fine, thank you Keran,” Cullen replied with a nod and a small smile. “I’m just tired.” 

“Ok Ser, if you’re sure” Keran replied, looking dubious but not willing to challenge his superior. “Well, good night Ser.”

Cullen nodded his dismissal, his mind already elsewhere as he continued to pace. Pausing mid stride, he had a thought. Why couldn’t he just go and ask her? She dropped these elusive comments with no explanation, surely he could go and demand one? It wasn’t that late so there was still time for him to speak to her. Where would he look? He thought for a moment then settled on the Hanged Man. It was widely known that Hawke always hung out there, it seemed the logical place for him to start if he wanted to find her and her friends. 

Making a decision he turned to leave before catching sight of his reflection in the mirror on the wall. Hmm, it might not be the best idea to go into Lowtown dressed in his Templar armour - he felt like he might be asking for trouble and to be honest he didn’t want to stand out while looking for a mysterious woman in the Hanged Man. He had spare training armour without insignia, which would probably be a better idea. Certainly a better idea than going into Lowtown without armour at all. 

Changing quickly, he stepped out of his rooms, making his way purposefully towards the exit. While he was perfectly within his rights to leave at any hour, he didn’t really feel like answering unnecessary questions especially since he wasn’t in uniform. 

Spotting Keran again on his way out, he spoke as he passed him. “Keran I’m going into Kirkwall, I’ll be back later if anyone’s looking for me,” he said. 

The recruit, caught off guard by the sudden change in attitude of his Captain and his unmarked armour, merely nodded in confusion as Cullen exited the building. He wondered what was going on - this was most unlike the Knight Captain.

__________________________

Neoma sat alone in a corner of the Hanged Man. Her friends had not yet arrived and she relished the time alone to nurse her bruised ego. Fenris had avoided her since he’d walked out the night before and she’d spent the day moping around Hawke’s house, only coming out tonight in an effort to drink herself into oblivion and forget the heartbreak. She didn’t know why she hoped it would be different with her, but somehow she’d thought… well it didn’t matter now she guessed. She’d tried to stop herself feeling anything for Fenris, but she knew the moment she awoke to find him watching over her, that it would be a problem. He might be grumpy and aggressive to most, but there was a gentle and vulnerable side to him he kept firmly under control which she hadn’t seen him reveal to many people. It didn’t help that she’d almost always romanced Fenris when she’d played Dragon Age 2. He was broken and dysfunctional without a doubt, but still… he felt things strongly and she loved that about him. 

She stared into her glass of wine morosely. It wasn’t as good as the wine at home, although that was probably just the stuff served at the Hanged Man, but it was better than the beer which she detested. Small mercies she thought to herself, taking another sip.

“It’s Neoma isn’t it?” 

She looked up into the golden eyes of Commander Cullen. No, wait, she corrected herself. He’s not Commander Cullen yet, he’s Knight Captain Cullen. 

“Oh, uh… yes, that’s right. Neoma,” she stumbled, straightening in her chair. She stared at him. He wasn’t in his templar uniform, instead wearing plain mercenary style armour. He held a mug of ale in his hand. 

“May I sit?” he gestured, breaking the awkwardness when she didn’t say anything. 

“Oh, um… yes, yes of course,” she said, “sorry… I’m uh, just surprised to see you here.” 

“Yes well, it’s not my usual haunt,” he said sitting down opposite her and smiling. 

“You’re not in uniform,” she said, gesturing to his armour. “I prefer this to the templar get up.”

He raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar phrase but smiled nonetheless. “Yes well, I’m trying not to stand out quite so much here.”

“Ah, so you’re undercover,” she grinned, thinking to herself that with his looks he could never truly blend into the background. 

“Undercover?” he said. “I’m not quite sure I follow…”

“Oh, sorry, it means like… incognito. You don’t want to be noticed. Like a spy.” She grinned again. 

Cullen blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. Ah, there was the Cullen she knew from Inquisition. “Uh yeah, I guess.” He hesitated. “Actually, I came looking for you…” 

“Me?” she asked, surprised. “And here I thought you were investigating a wayward mage and I was a happy coincidence. Why did you come looking for me?”

“I can’t stop thinking about what you said to me at the Gallows a couple of days ago,” he said leaning forward. “About me being a better man than I think I am. What did you mean by that?” 

“Oh… um, well it’s difficult to explain really, not without you thinking I’m lying or completely crazy I mean…” she said awkwardly. “Sorry… I really spoke to you on the spur of the moment and I didn’t really think it all through…”

He looked at her steadily. “You can try.” 

Neoma glanced over at a table on the other side of the room. Her friends had arrived shortly after Cullen and had avoided interrupting, but they were now all staring at her curiously, clearly wondering what she was doing with the templar. Fenris in particular was glaring daggers at him.

She looked away from them and sighed. “I’ll do my best,” she said. She gave him an abbreviated explanation of the one she’d given her friends, knowing how crazy it sounded and hoping he wouldn’t think she was some kind of wayward apostate. He looked sceptical until she talked about his childhood, the coin his brother had given him for luck, and his experiences at Kinloch Hold. He paled slightly and leaned toward her again. 

“I’ve never told anyone some of those things… How did you?” He shook his head. Her story seemed completely unbelievable and yet it had a ring of truth about it that he couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t quite sure just yet. “I’ll think on what you’ve said,”he replied, “but anyway, you said I was a better man than… than Meredith… what did you mean?” 

She looked at him levelly, trying to figure out how much she should say. “You question how Meredith treats the mages in Kirkwall. No matter your bad experiences with blood magic, you’re someone who believes the best of people. You might convince yourself of the need to be harsher and clamp down, but then you see how people like Meredith treat their charges and you know it’s wrong.” 

She paused, noticing how Cullen’s expression faltered. “There will come a time when you will need to put your trust in mages, to rely on them to help you save everything you know. Yes, there are bad mages, but there are also bad templars. Oppression isn’t the answer and in your heart you know that - it breeds hatred.” 

Cullen was silent for such a long time that she wondered if he’d forgotten about her. Just as she was thinking she should get up and join her friends, he stirred. “What did you mean when you said I would be a great leader?”

The question caught her off guard, she had forgotten she’d said that to him at the Gallows. Damn… “Oh, uh… well, I don’t think I should say. I shouldn’t have even said that to you… I was just… trying to provide some reassurance. You looked… uncertain.” She looked at him apologetically. “It’s one thing for me to talk about current events, but I think your future should unfold naturally as much as possible. If you overthink it, you might not choose it, and… you need to choose it.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry… I know that’s not satisfactory.” 

He nodded. The answer wasn’t what he’d been looking for, but he understood her reasoning. He also wasn’t entirely sure he believed her story but he would contemplate that later. He supposed it didn’t really matter if he believed her - she was convinced of the truth of her words, and everything she’d told him seemed to validate her story to some extent. It dawned on him that he’d launched straight into an interrogation without enquiring as to why she was alone. It seemed she was part of Hawke’s entourage. He glanced around the room and saw the rest of the group staring at them intently from another table. Of course as he made eye contact they all acted as if they were looking somewhere else. The exception was the white haired elf who glared at him directly. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve such ire, but he was fairly certain it had to do with the woman sitting opposite him. 

He looked back at her, noticing how her dark hair framed her face. Her eyes were a very pale, startling blue, but there were dark smudges underneath them as if she hadn’t had enough sleep. “I’ve been terribly rude,” he said. “I came here and launched right into this conversation but I never asked how you are. I suspect you weren’t sitting alone because you don’t have any friends, given the way they’re staring at us.” He paused, considering. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently. 

She smiled sadly. “It’s nothing you can help with really,” she replied. “Thanks anyway.” 

“I may not be able to help, but I can listen?” he offered. “Sometimes all you need is an ear, or an opportunity to vent.” 

It struck her how surreal this whole situation was. She was sitting here talking to people that until recently she’d only considered as characters within a game - discussing her one romantic relationship with a man who was another romance option in the same universe. It was absurd and she would have laughed if the pain of the whole Fenris debacle hadn’t taken her by surprise. Her breath hitched slightly as she inhaled. “I tell you all this crazy stuff about being from another world and how I know aspects of your future and you’re here asking me how I am?” she asked, a little incredulously. 

He smiled and shrugged. “I can decide whether or not I believe you when I’m back at the barracks, but you look like you need a friend that’s not your usual crowd,” he said, glancing with amusement at her friends trying to look nonchalant. 

She laughed. “It’s relationship stuff… Do you feel able to give advice on that front?” she joked. 

He blushed. “Well, uh… I may not be experienced in relationships, but it doesn’t mean I’ve never… uh, what I mean is… um… Maker…” he stumbled, his cheeks flaming red. 

Neoma raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I’m just teasing you Cullen,” she smiled. “I appreciate the offer actually, it just surprised me coming from you.” She grimaced. “Everyone else is a little too close to the matter I guess.” She sighed. “So uh, Fenris and I… well, we uh… you know,” she said, also blushing. “And he’s pretty emotionally damaged, and I think everything just became too overwhelming for him.” She looked down at her glass morosely. “He left, and I mean... I do actually understand why… I even warned him ahead of time... but that doesn’t stop it hurting.” 

“I think part of the reason it hurts then is because you warned him,” he said. “Often our expectation is that if we prepare someone for pain, it will be easier to deal with, which isn’t always the case.”

She nodded, looking down at her glass again, but not before he caught the shine of tears in her eyes. She sniffed delicately, clearly trying to hold the tears in. 

Cullen wasn’t generally good at dealing with people’s emotions - they made him uncomfortable because he didn’t know what to say in situations such as this. His solution to most things was to hit something with a sword and make it go away. He hesitated and then reached over and placed a hand over hers. “If it’s any consolation, I think he’s an idiot,” he said, smiling gently at her. She huffed a soft laugh and gave a small smile back. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before removing it, but the tingle of her presence lingered on his palm. 

She shrugged. “I think I also feel a bit overwhelmed by everything to be honest and it’s all kind of building up. Everything here is completely outside my realm of experience. Swords, magic… races other than humans…” She looked sad. “I don’t even know if or when I’ll ever be able to go home.”

“How long have you been here?” he asked realising as he said it that he had to a certain extent accepted her story, at least on the surface.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she said. “I think about six months, perhaps a little longer. I was captured by slavers when I first arrived and I don’t know how long they held me for before Hawke found me. I’ve been with Hawke for about three months.” 

“Slavers!” Cullen exclaimed in disgust. “I didn’t realise… are you ok? They didn’t hurt you did they?” He looked horrified at the thought. 

“Nothing some food and healing potions couldn’t fix anyway,” she shrugged. It wasn’t something she liked discussing - she’d gone through periods where she’d felt completely hopeless - but it was over now and they hadn’t hurt her like they’d hurt some of the other slaves. She wasn’t really sure why, but she thought it had something to do with her unusual tattoos. Perhaps they thought they could sell her for a higher price because of them. 

“I’m… sorry,” he said regretfully. “I wish there was something I could do to help you get home. I mean… if you want to go home that is…?” 

“Well if you hear of an interdimensional portal not teeming with demons that can get me home I would appreciate you letting me know,” she said wryly, her mouth quirking up on the side. 

The absurdity of her statement took him by surprise and Cullen laughed, an open, booming sound that elicited a scowl from Fenris. They talked for a few more minutes, about nothing serious, but comfortably, and Neoma found herself laughing and relaxing.

“I’ve enjoyed this,” he said with a smile getting to his feet. She also got up, intending to join her friends now she felt a bit better. “Unfortunately I have to get back to the Gallows, but perhaps we can do it again some time?” he asked hopefully. He liked spending time with her, she had a quick sense of humour that he enjoyed and he found himself at ease with her. He shot a glance at Fenris who was staring daggers at him. “Or perhaps not, depending on how your relationship woes work out…” 

She also shot a glance at Fenris and sighed. “Yeah well… we’ll see I guess. Thanks Cullen, it was nice.” 

She smiled and turned away to pick up her glass, only to feel a gentle hand on her arm. She turned back and impulsively Cullen leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. She was surprised - she’d never got the impression he was that bold, and certainly not in public, and it seemed a bit out of character for him. She stiffened only momentarily in surprise before returning the kiss. It was sweet and soft, without expectation. She felt a surge of desire for him as he pulled away with a smile. Blushing furiously she asked, “What was that for?”

“Just in case,” he replied, a blush also touching his cheeks. “I don’t know whether or not you’ll find your way home, but... I wouldn’t want to have any regrets.” He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “My apologies, it’s very unlike me so do something so impulsive, I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s ok, I like impulsive you,” she smiled. “It’s not what I was expecting.” She stepped back. “Night Cullen.” She watched in confusion as he walked away. Well that wasn’t how this was supposed to go...

________  
Fenris sat glaring at Neoma and the templar. What was his name? Cullen, that was it. His scowl got deeper when Cullen placed his hand over hers. 

Varric watched Fenris watching Neoma. “You’re the one who broke up with her, you remember that right?” Varric asked the elf. 

“Mmm,” Fenris said. “He didn’t wait long to make his move did he?” 

“I doubt Curly over there even knew you two were together before this, it’s not like you had a long term relationship or anything…” Varric didn’t know it was possible for Fenris to scowl even more than he already was but the elf seemed to manage. He didn’t know the particulars of the situation, only what he’d gleaned from Hawke and the even broodier (if that was possible) attitude of the elf, but it was clear something had gone horribly wrong between them. She looked like she hadn’t slept and the fact that she’d been sitting drinking alone before they arrived was a bad sign. It was also clear to the dwarf that Cullen was attracted to Neoma, but there’s no way he could have known what had happened between her and Fenris before now. Subtly, so as not to draw attention to himself, he pulled his notebook out of his pocket and jotted a couple of things down. These kinds of things were worth recording to consider later. 

Varric looked back at Cullen and Neoma, noticing they’d both risen to their feet - Cullen seemed to be leaving. He almost missed the templar’s unexpected move but when he saw Cullen kiss her, he had to physically put a hand on Fenris’s shoulder to stop him from getting up. Neoma looked shocked but blushed prettily and smiled as Cullen pulled away. She watched him leave, her brow furrowed in confusion. That was interesting, Varric thought. For someone who knew so much of what was going to happen to all of them, this seemed to have caught her by surprise. She had said she wasn’t sure how her presence here had changed things, and he wondered how much of that was true. Varric suddenly realised that Cullen wasn’t walking directly out of the Hanged Man however, he was making his way passed their table. It was barely noticeable unless you were watching but the templar caught Fenris’s gaze and jerked his head, indicating that Fenris should follow him outside. 

Scowling the elf stood up, feeling the itch of Neoma’s eyes on his back as she watched him follow Cullen outside the Hanged Man. 

He exited the tavern to find Cullen standing just outside, his back to the door, looking at the people wandering through Lowtown. The templar heard the door open and turned and looked at him coolly. They stood in silence for a moment before Fenris cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “Care to tell me what this is about?” 

Cullen smirked at him. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you know who it’s about anyway,” he replied. “I’m sure you can give me a whole list of reasons as to why you did what you did and to be honest that’s your business not mine,” he said holding up his hands, pre-empting the elf’s argument. “But I’m really only here to give you some advice, whether you want it or not,” he said, cutting Fenris off as he tried to make a smart comment about taking a templar’s advice. 

Fenris shut his mouth and remained silent, instead raising an eyebrow at him. 

Cullen studied him for a moment. “If you care about her, don’t leave it too long,” he said.

Fenris grimaced. “You’re the second person to tell me that today,” he mumbled. 

“And for good reason. She obviously cares about you, but speaking from personal experience, when you care for someone like that, and you feel that connection, you need to hang on to it, even if it’s hard because you can spend your whole life searching for it again. And my friendly piece of advice? Decide what you want. Because she’s something special, and once she’s over you she’ll move on and you’ll have lost your chance.” 

Fenris glared at him, surprised to hear that from the templar, but nodded. Cullen studied him and then turned and walked away. Fenris watched him go, staring daggers at his back, then stalked back into the Hanged Man.


	9. Wicked Little Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neoma needs to find a job. Hawke is hungover. Time passes. Fenris feels guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Wicked Little Town by Stephen Trask (from Hedwig and the Angry Inch). 
> 
> I don't want to go into detail on all the side quests etc, so I'm just finding ways to touch on the major points. This is all pretty off canon anyway though, so I guess it doesn't matter too much, but still.

Neoma woke the next morning filled with resolution. She could mope around feeling hurt or she could give Fenris the space he needed - the space she’d promised - to get himself sorted out. 

Yes, she was hurt, but really she wasn’t being fair to him either. She wasn’t trying to make him jealous with Cullen last night. She had no doubt it was a spontaneous act on the templar’s part - she had been unloading her problems on to him after all and he reacted to her vulnerability. 

Feeling better at having made a decision, she rose, washed and dressed, wanting to get an early start. As it turns out she hadn’t drunk herself into oblivion the night before, having slipped out the back when Fenris was outside talking to Cullen. She wasn’t in the mood for an argument and she felt like Fenris was definitely itching for one. It meant that at least she wasn’t hungover. The fire was already going, with hot water in a kettle over it and she made herself a cup of tea, contemplating what she would do that day. 

Neoma leaned against the table, wrapping her hands around her cup, warming them. She still didn’t have a proper job, having been caught up in Hawke’s adventures while getting her strength back, and she thought perhaps it was something she should explore. She wasn’t skilled enough to be a mercenary or anything like that, at least not yet, but she could probably work the bar at the Hanged Man, she had some university bartending experience, or get a job in a shop maybe? 

While she was standing in the kitchen contemplating all of this, Hawke stumbled in, still in her rumpled clothes from the night before, and looking slightly worse for wear. 

“Tea… good…” she grunted. 

Neoma smiled in amusement and poured a cup for Hawke, worried she might burn herself otherwise. “Rough night?” she teased. Hawke grunted again, closing her eyes against the headache that was building. 

“Nothayouwouno…” she mumbled. 

Neoma laughed. “I have no idea what you just said but it didn’t sound complimentary!”

“I said ‘Not that you would know!’ considering you skipped out early,” Hawke said grumpily. 

“Yeah well, I didn’t feel like having a conversation about Cullen with Fenris,” she said shrugging. “Anyway, I was hoping you could help me do something today. I need to get a job.”

Hawke looked up, startled, then winced at the sudden movement. “A job? Whatever for?” 

“Uh, because I can’t spend my time coming to you for money and I would like to contribute something. I don’t like being reliant on you the whole time,” Neoma replied. 

“But you have a job!” Hawke said. “You’re part of my daring group of adventurers!” 

“Um, well not really,” said Neoma raising an eyebrow. “I currently don’t fight, I just provide information that is sometimes useful.” 

“See!” Hawke said triumphantly. “Like I said, part of my daring group of adventurers!”

Neoma rolled her eyes. “Hawke that doesn’t count. My information will only be useful for so long, and while it’s helpful, the others all actually do something to earn coin. If you take a contract for something, everyone gets a share of the profits along with whatever they’ve looted along the way,” she grumbled. 

“Ok, well, how about… if I pay you for the information?” Hawke countered. “Then I get good info, you get money, everybody’s happy, and it also means that when you do become better at fighting, you can come along and earn money that way too!” Hawke looked pleased with herself despite her hangover and pounding head. 

Neoma looked sceptical, but considered the offer. She would rather earn money that way while she learned another skill than work in a bar, so although it wasn’t what she had in mind, it was workable. She nodded. “Ok, you can pay me for information, but only what the information is worth, I won’t allow you to overpay,” she said. 

Hawke pressed her lips together, knowing she’d been caught out, but nodded reluctantly. “Deal. No overpaying, but then you accept money for information without argument. When I feel you’re ready to come out with us without getting yourself killed then you take a cut of any pay as well, same as everyone else.”

“Deal,” Neoma replied. It wasn’t an ideal situation but at least it meant she could still kind of earn her way without having to rely on Hawke for everything and she was working towards being able to get better at weapons training. She grinned at Hawke. “I was going to suggest training today, but I suspect you won’t be up for it.” 

Hawke grimaced. “Mmm, we’ll see how I feel after I get something greasy in my stomach,” she said. “Mmm, eggs and bacon would go down so well right now…”

Neoma laughed at hungover Hawke, but went off in search of breakfast. 

____________

The weeks passed, and true to her word, Hawke began paying Neoma for any information she provided them. Quests (as Neoma thought of them) would come in, Hawke would consult with Neoma and nine times out of ten, then information was good and she would get paid. On the odd occasion she couldn’t provide anything, it was something that hadn’t come up when she’d played Dragon Age 2, perhaps because of a different choice, or perhaps just because this was real life and not a video game. On the whole, however, she was quite good at remembering at least the basics of the quest and was able to provide information that enabled the group to anticipate any trouble and prepare themselves accordingly. 

Neoma’s resolution of giving Fenris space was difficult for her as her heart ached every time she saw him, but she remained steadfast. She had promised to let him figure it all out, and she was going to do so. She’d wait for him to make the first move and come to her, but she was on edge every time they went out to the Wounded Coast, knowing the slavers could attack. She warned Hawke ahead of time, but said nothing to Fenris. He already knew they would come for him sooner or later, there was no need to make him more anxious. 

She trained daily, sometimes with Isabela and sometimes with Hawke, depending on who was available, and she felt like she was getting better. She was anticipating her opponents moves, and she was learning to strike harder and faster, which pleased Hawke greatly, especially after their first session where she’d had to provoke Neoma. She might not be ready to go out with them regularly just yet, especially after the first disastrous bandit attack, but Hawke was confident that another month of training like this and she’d be able to hold her own in a fight and would only get better with practice.

“You’re improving,” a voice behind Neoma said, after a particularly grueling training session with Isabela, and she turned to see Aveline observing her. She wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead.

“Thanks Aveline,” she said, a bit breathless but grinning nonetheless. “That’s high praise coming from you.” 

“I’m just commenting on what I’ve observed,” the guard captain said smiling. “If you’d like to come train with my guards some time, you’re welcome to,” she offered. “If you’re looking for a different challenge I mean.” 

“Oh that would be great, thank you!” Neoma replied, surprised that Aveline would make the offer, but not wanting to pass up the opportunity. “I’m getting familiar with Hawke and Isabela’s fighting styles, so they’re easier to anticipate than when I began.” 

“Come by whenever you’re ready,” Aveline said. “We train on rotation in the mornings and afternoons so you’ll generally find someone to spar with.” 

Neoma nodded and said goodbye to the captain as she took her leave and went to go wipe down her weapons and splash some water on her face. It was mid-afternoon and she’d planned to go back home to bath and wash the sweat off her before heading to the Hanged Man. 

“She’s right,” another voice said, “You are getting better.” 

Neoma didn’t have to turn to recognise that voice, so she carried on cleaning her weapons. “Thanks Fenris,” she replied, her heart immediately tightening. Breathe she told herself. Act normal. 

“I uh… I was hoping maybe we could talk…” he said. 

“Sure, go ahead, I’m listening,” she said, glancing up. He was looking down, his white hair falling across his face, shifting his weight nervously. 

“Maybe… somewhere more private?” he asked. 

She stopped what she was doing. “I’d like to go wash first if we’re going to go somewhere else,” she said. “I’ve been training and I’m pretty sure I smell.” She wrinkled her nose. 

“You can come to the mansion when you’re ready?” he asked hopefully. “My mansion I mean. Danarius’s mansion…” He felt awkward, not sure why he was explaining. It’s not like she didn’t know where he lived. 

She smiled and chuckled. “I knew which mansion you meant,” she said. “Sure, I shouldn’t be too long, I’ll meet you there.” 

They went their separate ways, Fenris making his way home, his stomach in knots. He wasn’t even really sure what he wanted to say to her, only that he wanted to bridge this awful rift that had developed between them. He knew it was his fault, but he hated the fact that their easy conversation was gone, replaced by forced and awkward moments. 

He looked around his mansion when he arrived back and grimaced at the empty wine bottles lying everywhere. He’d sunk into depression and while she had channeled her energy into training and improving her skills, he had drowned his sorrows in a bottle. Or rather, many bottles. He attempted to at least clear away the bottles before she arrived, feeling a little embarrassed at how he had handled the situation. Once everything was at least moderately tidy, he sat down to wait, fighting the urge to pour himself a glass of wine to steady his nerves. 

_____________

Neoma washed quickly and changed. Hawke wasn’t home, and she felt some relief that she didn’t have to explain where she was going. She knew Hawke would tease her about seeing Fenris, but perhaps worse, that she might judge her. He just asked to talk, she told herself, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She was still conscious that Hadriana needed to be dealt with, and she didn’t think it was a good idea to get back into a relationship with the elf before that was resolved. It made him too volatile. 

She approached his front door and paused before knocking, collecting herself. She knocked twice and waited. Normally she would knock and just go in, but for some reason she felt like she needed to be invited in. She stood out for what felt like a slightly uncomfortable time before Fenris answered the door. 

“You never wait outside,” he said, looking confused. He had expected her to just knock and walk in like always and he was ashamed that she felt she could no longer do so. 

“I uh, well, I don’t know, I thought maybe you might want me to wait…” she said awkwardly. Smooth Neoma, so smooth, she thought to herself. 

Fenris looked sad. “You never have to wait outside Neoma,” he said. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds before he realised he was still standing in the doorway. He stepped back to let her in.

She looked around. She hadn’t been to his house in a while and she was surprised to find that it looked tidier than she’d expected. He’d cleaned. Or at least cleaned the bits she could see, she thought to herself, smiling. 

“Did I do something funny?” he asked, a small smile on his face as he watched her. “You’re smiling.” 

She turned to look at him, noticing how his fair fell over his eyes. It had gotten longer than she was used to, he needed a haircut, but she liked the way it framed his face and she almost reached for him to touch it, but stopped herself. 

“You’ve cleaned,” she said. 

Fenris smirked. “Well, a little,” he said awkwardly. He gestured inside. “Would you like to sit?” 

They walked further in towards the living area and she sat down in one of the chairs by the fire. She might have been sweaty earlier from training, but Kirkwall wasn’t known for its warm climate and the air had a chill to it. 

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked. She accepted and he poured a glass for both of them. There was a funny moment in her head where she remembered a line of dialogue from the game. 

“Is it Aggregio Pavali?” she asked with a straight face. 

He looked at her curiously. “It is… There are six bottles in the cellar.” 

She smiled and took a sip. It was a good wine. “Just don’t go throwing it at the walls ok?” she said. 

“Uh, I’ll try not to…” he said, sitting down opposite her. 

They sat and sipped their wine, Neoma staring into the fire. It was companionable, but the atmosphere grew thicker between them. 

Finally when he could bear it no more, Fenris sat forward in his chair. “Neoma…” he said and she looked up at him. Her eyes caught him and the words stuck in his throat. 

She reached out and took his hand. “Just say what you need to Fenris, whatever it is.” 

He sighed. “I just hate this awkwardness between us.” He squeezed her hand gently before letting it go and leaning back in his chair, letting her know he wasn’t pulling away. “I know that everything is my fault, but we always had such easy conversations before… I feel like, we’ve lost that. And… well, I might still need time for everything else, but I miss you.” 

Neoma looked at the elf. “It’s not all your fault Fenris and you really shouldn’t take it on as such.” She sighed. “I could have said no… but I was selfish, and I wanted… this. Us.” She looked down. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about it on the way here and I’m also the reason this has been so awkward. I was trying to give you space and not put pressure on you, and instead I think I just withdrew and avoided you.” She looked up at him again and smiled hopefully. “I’ll try harder if you will…?”

Fenris felt the tension melt away from him. He’d been so anxious and caught up in the guilt that he hadn’t stopped to think she was trying to do what he’d asked, thinking instead that she was angry at him. “I’ll always try Neoma,” he said softly. 

She smiled then, a genuine one that lit up her face and made his heart stop. “Then we’re good?” she asked. “You’re my friend Fenris, I don’t want to lose that regardless of anything else.” 

He returned the smile. “Yes, we’re good,” he replied. “And I’m also hungry,” he said breaking the tension. “I have some cheese if you’d like that to go with the wine?”

“Absolutely!” she grinned. “I love cheese.” 

Nodding, he got up to go find clean plates and the cheese. Rummaging around in the kitchen, he gathered up everything and made his way back to her, but stopped just outside the door when he heard her singing softly to herself. He chanced a glance through the door and saw her sitting back in her chair, her eyes closed, hands cupping her wine glass. Her voice was low and pleasing, he’d never heard her sing before and he didn’t want to interrupt. 

You know, the sun is in your eyes  
And hurricanes and rains  
And black and cloudy skies.

You're running up and down that hill.  
You turn it on and off at will.  
There's nothing here to thrill  
Or bring you down.  
And if you've got no other choice  
You know you can follow my voice  
Through the dark turns and noise  
Of this wicked little town.

Oh Lady, luck has led you here  
And they're so twisted up  
They'll twist you up. I fear.

The pious, hateful and devout,  
You're turning tricks till you're turned out,  
The wind so cold it burns,  
You're burning out   
and blowing round.

And if you've got no other choice  
You know you can follow my voice  
Through the dark turns and noise  
Of this wicked little town.

The fates are vicious   
and they're cruel.  
You learn too late you've used two wishes like a fool.

And then you're someone you are not,  
And Junction City ain't the spot,  
Remember Mrs. Lot  
And when she turned around.

And if you've got no other choice  
You know you can follow my voice  
Through the dark turns and noise  
Of this wicked little town.   
Of this wicked little town.

The song had been on her mind a lot in the past few weeks, like an ear worm, but a welcome one - it was one of her favourites - and she wished she could hear it again like she did in her head. 

Fenris stood frozen outside the door. He felt strangely moved by this strange song, but also like he’d interrupted a personal moment and he didn’t want to barge in now and startle her. He waited a few more moments and then walked through the door, as if he hadn’t been standing outside the whole time. 

“I found the cheese,” he said.


	10. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadriana, plus realisations that people are actually people and not just video game characters.

Time passed. 

Days were somewhat the same for the most part. Hawke would go missioning off on some quest, taking various companions with her. Those that remained behind would busy themselves with other tasks. No one was waiting around for Hawke to summon them. 

Neoma carried on training. She pushed herself harder physically than she ever did on Earth and was pleased to see not only an improvement in her skills, but also in her physique. Although Hawke and Isabela didn’t say it, preferring to keep pushing her to be better, they were both secretly pleased with her improvement. 

Of course, as agreed with Hawke, she also provided what information she could, but sometimes they were just menial tasks that hadn’t been a part of the games. She supposed it made sense, sometimes life was just… life. You had things to do, people to see, bills to pay. It amused her because you never think of video game as having their own lives independent to the narrative. 

Hawke was now wealthy enough from the Deep Roads expedition that she didn’t need to work to survive, and with some business ventures to provide a steady supplementary income, most of the things she did were for personal reasons. The extra coin was often just a bonus for her, although Neoma couldn’t say if everyone else felt the same - she certainly welcomed the extra coin earned from Hawke. 

Every time they ventured out with Fenris, especially if Neoma knew they were going to the Wounded Coast, she would feel anxious, unable to concentrate on her tasks until they returned. Neoma and Fenris’s relationship had settled into a friendship that had some tension, but now that they weren’t avoiding each other it made it more comfortable for everyone even if there was still the occasional awkwardness. 

Evenings spent in the Hanged Man were filled less with avoidance and people studiously ignoring the tension, and more with drinking, laughter and the occasional bar fight usually started indirectly by Isabela. 

Of course the day arrived when Neoma returned home from training with Aveline to chaos. Fenris was stomping around Hawke’s house, looking like a thundercloud. They both stopped and turned to look at her as she entered. 

“Oh,” Neoma said. “Sorry, I… didn’t mean to interrupt.” She noticed the tension in the air. “Is everything alright?”

Hawke looked pointedly at Fenris who grimaced. “We just… encountered… Hadriana,” the elf replied.

Realisation dawned on her. “You killed her,” she stated, already knowing the answer. Relief flooded through her and the knot of worry that had been sitting in her chest loosened. There was still Danarius and Fenris’s sister to come, but the first hurdle had been overcome. 

“I let my emotions get the better of me,” he said. “I wanted to let her go… but I couldn’t.” 

In a couple of steps Neoma was at his side and wrapping her arms around him, ignoring the spiky armour that dug into her arms. “I know you did…” she said softly. She felt him stiffen and then his arms encircled her as they stood there silently, just holding each other. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hawke make a quiet exit, leaving the two of them alone. 

Neoma pulled back slightly. “What did Hawke say?” she asked, knowing he’d also noticed her leave. She knew that Hawke’s reaction meant a great deal to him, no matter what he said. 

“She… understood,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve given her enough credit before this really.” He shook his head. “I always just supposed she would judge me for it…” he looked at Neoma uncertainly. “That you would judge me for it…” 

Neoma pulled him gently towards her and rested her forehead against his. “I wouldn’t judge you,” she replied softly. “You forget that… I know what you’ve been through, even if you haven’t told me.” 

“Neoma,” he sighed, “I’m sorry… for everything.” 

“I know Fenris,” she said. “You don’t need to explain to me.” 

“But I do,” he insisted. He broke away from her, and paced, the frustration in his voice evident. “You think you know everything, you think you know how I’ll react, but… you don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot over these past few months. You know what will happen with Hawke.” He turned to look at her. “But you don’t know what will happen with you.” He crossed the space between them in a couple of long strides. “Neoma, you can’t predict everything. You said yourself that you didn’t know how much you had changed by being here.” He took her hand. “I can tell you now that you’ve changed at least one thing - you’ve changed me.” 

Neoma just stared at him, her mouth open in shock. This was not how she’d expected this conversation to go and she knew he was right. She had made assumptions and given information as if she knew the outcome was certain, when in fact it was not. She had also never actively tried to alienate Fenris in the game, so how would she have been able to predict all outcomes? But if that was the case, the repercussions were just too vast to contemplate. All her interactions with Fenris, with Hawke, oh god, with Cullen… Fear and anxiety coiled in the pit of her stomach. She realised she’d been acting like this wasn’t real. Her familiarity with everyone had blinded her to her actions and in some ways she’d felt removed from it all. 

“Fenris,” she murmured, her voice breaking slightly, “I’m the one who should be apologising.” She shook her head when he tried to interrupt. “No, you’re right. I’ve been thoughtless, and… to be honest, when you say that… well, this is really the first time I’ve realised that… this is really real…” The fear in her stomach expanded and her heart began to pound uncomfortably. Her voice cracked. “I’ve treated you… like the fantasy version of yourself I had in my head. Like everything would work out alright in the end… because that’s what happens in stories, without taking into account the consequences of my actions.” She pulled her hand from his and stepped backwards, feeling guilty at her thoughtlessness. She was also grappling with what he’d said about her changing him. If she’d changed him, it meant he wouldn’t necessarily react in the same way when big decisions needed to be made. And if Fenris didn’t react like that, then maybe Hawke or Isabela wouldn’t react the same way and then… her mind whirled uncontrollably at the possibilities. What would happen when, if… Anders blew up the Chantry? She vaguely realised that Fenris was talking to her. She turned to look at him, his words not making any sense to her. “What did you say?” she asked in a strangled gasp.

“I asked if you were alright,” he said, his face a mask of concern. 

“Um… no, not really…” she replied shakily. “What if I can’t tell you what’s going to happen? Then what do I do if… someone dies… or…” 

Fenris pulled her to him and placed his hands on her face, forcing her to look at him. Her breath came in panicky gasps. “Neoma, breathe deeply…” he said. “Calm…” her breathing slowed as he breathed in and out with her. When she was a bit calmer, he looked her in the eyes, still holding her face gently. “It’s called life… Neoma. We can’t predict life. We can’t predict people’s emotions - there are too many factors. We can guess… or, in your case you can provide insight as to possibilities, but that’s really the best we can do.” 

Neoma’s eyes welled up with tears. “But then what use am I?” she wailed. “If my information isn’t any good, how do I stop the people I love getting hurt? How do I stop you from getting hurt!?” 

He pulled her into his chest and held her. “You can’t…” he replied. “You just do your best.” 

They stood together like that for a while, while Neoma cried into his spiky armour. When she quieted and her breath just came in hiccups he shifted awkwardly. “Um…” he said, “So I know that I still have a lot of anger to deal with… but I was hoping that maybe...” he cleared his throat. “I mean I was hoping maybe we could try again...”

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Seriously?,” she said.. 

He was about to begin apologising when she cut him off with a kiss. It caught him by surprise but he returned it eagerly, his arms crushing her to him, and only loosening his grip when he realised his armour was poking into her. She broke the kiss. “Are you sure?” she replied softly. 

He touched his forehead to hers, his heart swelling with hope. “I never thought…” he started then sighed. “All this time, I thought I’d messed things up… irreparably, and I can’t guarantee that I won’t be a complete nightmare”. 

She laughed softly. “Irreparably? No.” She grimaced. “But… you’ve given me so much to think about. I wonder… if I’ve made the right decisions? Maybe I shouldn’t have told people the things I have. Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have told Cullen…” 

He stilled. He’d briefly forgotten about the templar. “What did you tell him?” Fenris asked curiously, with no hint of the jealousy she’d expected to hear in his voice. He put his arm around her and pulled her towards him gently. 

She sighed. “Cullen… changes in the coming years. He becomes a great leader. But he struggles with many things in his past.” She shrugged. “I tried to offer him comfort and encouragement because I know how conflicted he feels at the moment.” She bit her lip. “Now I’m worried I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Fenris sighed and shrugged. “Just because you’ve changed things, doesn’t mean they haven’t changed for the better,” he said. “You just do your best.” 

She laughed and turned to look at him. “When did you become so accepting of fate?”

He looked down at her and smiled. “I’m not. But this is not fate. After today… I was so angry. I… acted irrationally.” He looked briefly ashamed and she squeezed gently. “I can’t change what I did, although I’ll argue she deserved it. I can’t change the fact that Danarius will likely still come after me. But… I can take comfort in the fact that I’ll be as prepared as I can be.” His voice hardened slightly. “I won’t be made a slave again, I’d rather die. But at least it will be my choice.” 

“And this?” she asked. “Us?” Neoma felt a flutter of uncertainty in her stomach. “If you’re not ready, I understand… but… I just can’t go through this all again if...” she broke off, biting her lip anxiously.

He looked down at her. “Also my choice,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I struggled a bit with this chapter and kept rewriting it. The ones coming up are good though! :)


	11. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comedy and tragedy. Neoma meets someone she wasn't expecting in this timeline, and they arrive home to tragedy.

“Ug… Marian… is it really necessary?” Neoma grumbled. “I don’t even know who any of these people are!” she argued. 

Hawke knew if Neoma was using her first name she was really annoyed and she grinned. “Look Neoma, I hate social gatherings like this as much as you do,” she countered, “but unfortunately I have to go.” Hawke was insisting that Neoma attend a ball at the Viscount’s palace with her in a few days time. She grinned slyly, “And since you live with me, people are expecting you there as well.” She shrugged. “And even though Mother isn’t attending, she insists you go and who am I to defy her?” 

“Because I live with you! That’s ridiculous, so do Bodhan and Sandal and they’re not expected to go!” she whined. 

“Yeah but they don’t spend their time accompanying me around the city!” Hawke said. “The fact of the matter is that people think we’re related somehow, otherwise why would you live with me? And to be honest, I haven’t discouraged the rumours that you’re a cousin because it’s easier than having to think up some backstory about where you came from.”

Neoma sighed. Unfortunately it was all too rational, and she really did feel indebted to Hawke for taking her in. She’d offered to leave and find her own place more than once, but Hawke had always insisted she stay. To be honest, Neoma suspected it was because she enjoyed the company. It was only her mother living with her and although Neoma knew Hawke loved Leandra, she felt guilty that Carver and Bethany had become something of a sore point in their relationship. “All right, fine. I’ll go…” she sighed. 

Hawke smiled broadly. “Great! I have a dressmaker arriving this afternoon to measure you,” she said. 

“What! I have to go in a dress?” Neoma threw her hands in the air. “Well this just gets better and better.” She sighed again. “Will the others at least be there as well so I have someone to talk to?” she asked.

“No, it’s just you and me,” Hawke replied. “So you’ll need to learn to make polite conversation. I have no doubt there will be other people there you know, so just try not to act too weird, and be vague about how we’re related. Distant relatives - my father’s cousin’s brother’s child or some such. The further removed the better.”

“What do you mean try not to act too weird? I’m not very weird…” Neoma protested, laughing when Hawke rolled her eyes. 

“You know what I mean. The way you talk and act sometimes, it’s very clear you’re not from Thedas. Just… try to act normal alright?” 

Neoma knew she’d lost this battle and just nodded glumly. Even on Earth she had detested wearing dresses. They were just so darn uncomfortable and she always felt awkward in them. She mumbled under her breath but she knew she’d do what Hawke wanted. Unfortunately for her it just made too much sense in the grander scheme of things and she didn’t want to draw more attention to herself by being all mysterious and not attending. It seemed counterintuitive but sometimes people must do what was expected of them in order to slide under the radar. 

She huffed a soft laugh to herself as she realised that phrase would make no sense here. They didn’t know what a radar was. Ok, maybe she did understand why Hawke thought she was a bit weird. 

A few hours later she was standing being poked and prodded, and of course measured, for a dress. The dressmaker, a stern looking woman with an Orlesian accent seemed torn between exposing Neoma’s tattoos and covering them up. In the end it was decided to leave them exposed, if only for the talkability they would bring. Neoma winced, knowing it meant she’d have to make a great deal of polite small talk with people at the ball, precisely because she’d get a lot of questions about them. 

____________

Neoma fidgeted. She had never liked dresses and although she was aware she looked good in this one, she felt uncomfortable. She sipped her red wine, perhaps more quickly than she should, but it took the edge off her nerves. 

The nobles of the Free Marches mingled and gossiped. Neoma’s knowledge of the Free Marches was much more limited than her knowledge of the rest of Thedas. She basically only knew of Kirkwall, Starkhaven and Ostwick. She vaguely remembered something about Tantervale as well, but here there were nobles from all over, including Markham and Wycome. 

“If you act the part eventually you’ll find you fit right in…” a voice said behind her. She turned to see Hawke standing behind her, smirking. 

“Fake it till you make it right?” Neoma replied rolling her eyes. “I find that rich coming from you. You hate these as much as I do.” 

Hawke laughed. “I love that phrase… Fake it till you make it. Yes that’s pretty much about it.” She grinned slyly. “I’ve had a number of enquiries about you, you know,” she said. “Everyone wants to know where I’ve been hiding my beautiful cousin with the interesting tattoos. I think I’m going to have to start fending off marriage proposals…” 

Neoma rolled her eyes. “I have no inclination towards marriage right now thank you very much, plus I’m more than capable of making my own decisions.” She considered momentarily and grinned. “Also, I can’t imagine Fenris would be very pleased.” 

Hawke grinned. “I have no doubt. And that is why this evening will be even more interesting.” She swiped another glass of wine from a tray-carrying waiter and sauntered off, leaving Neoma watching her with narrowed eyes. What on Earth… uh Thedas... was Hawke up to? She wondered.

“Do you find these things as dull as I do?” a deep, pleasant voice said behind her. 

Neoma whirled around. A good-looking, dark haired man stood behind her, a glass of red wine in his hand. He looked to be in his late twenties, blue eyes, full lips, strong jaw. His face was saved from falling into the “generic white guy” category by a few scars that made his features more interesting. His blue eyes smiled at her, his lips twitching with amusement.

Neoma smiled and took a sip of her wine. “I can’t say I attend many of them to be honest,” she replied, “but so far I’m in agreement with you.” She sighed. “My cousin insisted I attend and so here I am…” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Neoma.” 

He looked down at her outstretched hand in confusion and she cursed internally. Shaking hands with a woman like this wasn’t the way things worked here, but it would look weird if she moved her hand away so she had to leave it there. He reached out tentatively and shook her hand, grinning as he did so. This woman wasn’t at all what he’d expected. He’d first enquired about her and then watched her from the other side of the room for a bit before ambling over. He knew most of the noble families here and she was an unfamiliar face. 

“It’s customary when people tell you their name, to reply with yours…” she teased, removing her hand from his and taking another sip of her wine. 

“Oh, yes of course,” he replied with a smile. “I’m Marcus. Marcus Trevelyan.” 

Neoma choked on her wine, causing her to cough. Marcus was startled and moved to help her but she waved him away, handing him her wine glass as she coughed to clear her throat and hide her shock. Trevelyan. Fuck. What was worse was that she didn’t actually know if he would be the Inquisitor, or if it would be an elf, dwarf or qunari. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“Fine,” she choked out. “It just went down the wrong way. Sorry, I’ll be fine in a second.” Think, Neoma, think! She told herself. How do you find out if he’s the one who’ll be the Inquisitor? Do you even want to know? Would it not be better to just let this whole scenario unfold without your knowledge? 

She straightened up, taking her wine glass back from Marcus and taking a small sip. His face was still creased in a frown. “Are you certain you’re alright?” he asked. 

“I’m really fine, thanks for asking,” she replied. “I’m more embarrassed than anything else!” She figured this would be the best way to cover her awkwardness at his identity. “So!” she said brightly, “tell me about yourself! I really don’t know much about the nobility in these parts so I’m not au fait with everyone's background.”

“You’re not from the Free Marches?” he asked. “I was under the impression you were Marian Hawke’s cousin? Or did I get that wrong?” 

“Oh, uh… no you didn’t get that wrong, although I’m fairly certain I never told you that Marian was my cousin…” she said, trying to redirect the conversation. 

He blushed a little at being caught out. “Um, no you didn’t, but I… may have asked around before coming to speak to you,” he grinned. Not to be deterred by her vagueness, he said, “But her mother’s family are the Amell’s if I’m not mistaken. Are you related to her father?” 

“We’re very distant relations to be honest,” Neoma replied, trying to act casual. “But we’ve always hit it off, so it’s more a happy coincidence that we’re related.” 

“Hit it off?” Marcus asked curiously. “That’s an odd turn of phrase.” 

Neoma cursed herself again. So much for not acting weird. She wasn’t doing well at blending in. “Oh, it’s uh… a Fereldan term. A colloquialism,” she stammered. This man was making her very nervous. 

“Right… well, perhaps that’s why I’ve never heard it. I’ve travelled a bit in Fereldan, but not extensively. Are you from Fereldan originally?” he probed. This woman was a mystery he was determined to crack. He was certain she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but he couldn’t figure out why, or about what. 

“We, uh, moved around a lot, so kind of all over,” she said. “But Hawke and I met in Lothering before the Blight.” She shrugged, her palms clammy but trying to appear nonchalant. “I only moved to Kirkwall much later however. Her family came here because of Leandra, and my family fled elsewhere.” 

She turned her gaze on him trying to change the subject. “What about you? What are your family like? The Trevelyan’s are from… Ostwick? I think?” she said, her brow creasing as she tried to think back to her knowledge of them from Inquisition. 

He looked at her in amusement. She was clearly very nervous and he couldn’t figure out why. “That’s correct. I’m the youngest of three children. I have an older brother and sister.” He shrugged and leaned against a pillar. “I’m somewhat the black sheep of the family I guess. My father keeps trying to marry me off to some or other noble house’s daughter to strengthen our political position, but I can’t say I’m really interested in being told who I must marry.”

Neoma nodded as she laughed. “I was having this same conversation about marriage with Hawke earlier today,” she said, causing his eyebrows to rise slightly. It was unusual in his experience for a woman to be unconcerned about marriage. He supposed she did have Marian Hawke as a cousin and she was also a pretty exceptional woman from what he’d heard of her exploits.

Neoma’s mind was spinning. He was the youngest, which means it would definitely be him if the Inquisitor was human. “Well, the youngest child is always the one who’s supposed to be the overachiever or something,” she joked. Damn, why did I say that? She asked herself. She looked around desperately for Hawke and saw her standing in a corner drinking wine and watching Neoma and Marcus’s conversation with amusement. Neoma scowled at her and she grinned back cheekily. 

“Are you responsible for that?” Cullen asked Hawke, walking up beside her. “She looks incredibly uncomfortable.” 

Hawke grinned at the templar. “Knight-Captain Cullen! What a pleasant surprise,” she said politely, nodding at him. “I didn’t expect to see you at such a gathering.” She turned back to watch Neoma and Marcus. 

“Knight-Commander Meredith is in attendance and requested me as part of the delegation to accompany her,” he replied, shrugging. “It’s true that I don’t much enjoy these sorts of functions, but I am on duty I suppose.” 

“Well, I can honestly say that the situation over there is merely a happy coincidence and not arranged by me at all!” Hawke said, her grin getting wider. “Her sudden awkwardness is priceless, and it does make me wonder why…” she mused. 

“You’re not going to put her out of her misery?” he asked, his lips quirking into a smile at Hawke’s glee over her friend’s discomfort. 

“Of course not!” she replied. “This is way too much fun to watch.” 

Cullen watched the exchange for a few more moments, then sighed and made his way over to Neoma. She looked up gratefully as he approached and cut off Marcus Trevelyan’s attempts to withdraw more information from her. 

“Neoma,” he smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Knight-Captain Cullen,” she replied. “It’s been too long.” 

He nodded and turned to Marcus. “Marcus Trevelyan, if I’m correct?” he said. 

Marcus nodded. “You are indeed Knight-Captain. I’ve heard a great deal about you, it’s good to finally meet you.”

“You are too kind,” smiled Cullen. “My apologies for the interruption, but I was hoping I might steal Neoma away for a moment,” he asked. “There’s a matter I wish to discuss with her and unfortunately I see her infrequently so the opportunity may not arise again soon.” 

“Of course,” said Marcus, knowing there was no way he could refuse. Turning to her he said, “Neoma, it was a pleasure meeting you. Hopefully we’ll be able to continue our conversation at a later time.”

She nodded at him and smiled. “Likewise Marcus, thank you for the conversation.” 

Cullen offered her his arm and escorted her away and out of earshot. 

______

Marcus watched her walk away with the templar, noticing Marian Hawke watching her cousin and her bemused expression. He made his way through the gossiping nobles and over to her, hoping he could glean some more information from her about Neoma.

“Marian Hawke,” he said as he approached. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’ve heard a great deal about your exploits in Kirkwall.”

She turned and fixed him with a piercing stare, her one eyebrow quirking up. “Oh? All of it scandalous I hope?” 

He laughed. “Some of it is to be sure, but not all.” He took a sip of his wine. “I have to wonder how much is truth and how much fiction?” 

“Oh all of it is truth of course,” she replied. “Especially the naughty bits…” she winked at him and he found himself grinning at her. She really was attractive. Short, dark hair, athletic build. It was clear she was a warrior, and he found that much more appealing than many of the other nobles who didn’t seem to get much in the way of exercise, regardless of gender. 

“You seem to find this entire gathering quite humorous,” he said. “I noticed in particular that you seemed very amused by my conversation with your cousin.” He glanced over at where she was now engaged in conversation with the Knight-Captain. 

Hawke grinned. “Yes indeed. It’s rare for me to see her so flustered, I found it very amusing, and I must admit to have been wondering as to why that was.” She raised an eyebrow at Marcus. “Did you say something inappropriate to make her act like that?” 

“Me?” he asked in surprise. “No, I merely told her my name and then she started coughing. We didn’t talk much about anything other than how you knew each other growing up…” he trailed off expectantly. 

Hawke’s grin grew wider. “Of course, well you must know we met in Lothering before the Blight. She’s a distant cousin on my father’s side.” Hawke and Neoma had rehearsed her back story, and as long as Neoma had stuck to that, she should be fine. 

“Ah, of course,” he said, a little disappointed to not catch the pair out. “She’s… unusual, I must say. She makes me very curious.” 

Hawke laughed. She would need to convince him that there was no need to look deeper into Neoma’s past, but she did enjoy a challenge and decided to have some fun before dissuading him. “You know…” she began mischievously. “I have some funny stories about us growing up…” 

______

“Cullen,” Neoma said smiling at him as they walked away from Marcus, “it has definitely been too long. What did you want to talk to me about?” 

He laughed. “Oh no, you looked like you wanted to escape the conversation with young Trevelyan there, and I was just offering you the opportunity. I hope I didn’t read the situation incorrectly,” he said. 

“Oh no you didn’t at all!” she said gratefully. “I mean, he’s very nice, but… well… I wasn’t expecting to see him, and…” she turned and looked him in the eyes. “Well… I can’t say… you know…” She was apologetic. 

Cullen looked thoughtful. “So if you weren’t expecting to see him, then it means you don’t know everything about what’s going to happen?” he asked curiously. “I was under the impression that you knew… well, a great deal…” he finished awkwardly. 

“Oh… No, not at all. There are possibilities. Some things are more certain than others, but the story is quite open in that regard. It could be Marcus Trevelyan that is the key player, in a good way of course…” she justified, not wanting him to think the potential Herald was a threat, “or it could be a number of others. It really depends on circumstances… that I can’t tell you about… because… of things…” She grimaced awkwardly. “Sorry, it’s really hard to manage you know? There are so many balls in the air.” 

“I guess I’m going to have to trust you then,” he smiled. He hadn’t seen her in over a month, not since that night in the Hanged Man, but he’d given her story a great deal of thought. He might not believe every element, but he had no way of disproving what she claimed. Either she was crazy, and she certainly didn’t act like it, or she was telling the truth. Or at least believed she was telling the truth. There was no other way around it. It’s not like she was going around telling people she was a seer and trying to con them out of money so he had no real reason to doubt her.

“Wait, you believe me?” she said, surprised. 

“You haven’t proven otherwise,” he replied. “The best I can do is go along with it unless something happens that convinces me otherwise.” 

“Huh…” she said softly. “Well, that’s… a bit of a shock, but… thank you.” She smiled at him warmly and his heart fluttered. Stop that, he told himself. 

Pulling himself together he changed the subject. “So what have you been doing with yourself? You haven’t come by the Gallows in a while,” he said. He hated that he could hear the note of disappointment in his voice.

Neoma noticed it as well, but chose to ignore it. She didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable. “Oh, I’ve been training actually,” she replied. “Figured I should get my fighting skills up to scratch, so I’ve been training with Aveline’s guards, as well as Isabela and Hawke.” She grinned. “I might not be a champion fighter, but at least now I may actually be able to hold my own in a fight.” 

Her enthusiasm was infectious and Cullen found himself grinning back at her. “Well if you ever need another sparring partner, you know where to find me,” he found himself offering. What on Thedas made him do that, he thought to himself. Not that he wouldn’t like another opportunity to see her, but it sounded like she had more than enough people to train with. 

Whatever her thoughts on the matter, she smiled cheerfully at him, and he felt himself relax. They chatted for a few more minutes until Neoma saw Hawke catch her eye. She sighed. “I think I’m being summoned,” she said, grimacing. “Ug, these things are the worst…” she grumbled. 

Cullen laughed at her expression. “I’m not one for events such as these either,” he replied, “so I sympathise.” He turned and nodded at Hawke who was glaring at the two of them for daring to disengage from the party. “Go,” he said gesturing. “Hopefully I’ll see you again sometime soon.” 

She sighed. “Thanks for the talk Cullen, it was nice to see a friendly face,” she smiled. She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed gently as she left, making his heart somersault again and leaving him staring after her, a fact that did not go unnoticed by a number of people in the room, Hawke and Marcus Trevelyan included. 

“Marian,” she said as she approached her friend who was still standing talking to Marcus Trevelyan. “Marcus.” 

“Cousin,” Hawke replied grinning. “I was just telling Marcus here some stories about us growing up…” she said.

Neoma froze. “You were?” She looked at Marcus. “Whatever she told you...” she started, trying to think about what they’d decided on her back story. She was sure there were no stories about them growing up. Shit. 

He burst out laughing and looked over at Hawke. “You were right,” he said, still chuckling. 

“I told you she’d deny it,” Hawke said, winking at Neoma. 

Neoma rolled her eyes. “You took way too much pleasure in my discomfort you know,” she chastised but her mouth twitched in amusement, mostly at Hawke’s cleverness in putting Marcus off the scent. 

“I absolutely do,” replied Hawke, laughing. 

As they stood talking, Neoma somewhat relieved that Hawke seemed to have taken over the conversation with Marcus, a messenger approached.

“Sirrah Hawke,” he said. 

“Can I help you?” Hawke asked.

“Your Uncle Gamlen requests your presence at home urgently,” he responded. Hawke frowned and nodded at the messenger to take his leave. 

“Well I guess that’s our cue to leave,” she said. “Marcus, apologies, but it seems we are required at home.” 

______________

They arrived back at Hawke’s estate. “You go in Marian,” Neoma said. “I’ll get our things from the carriage”. Hawke nodded in response and went inside while Neoma made sure she had all their possessions. 

“Marian!” Gamlen exclaimed as soon as Hawke entered. “Where’s your mother? Is she feeling alright?”

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Marian replied, confused. “Why are you so upset?”

“Your mother didn’t show up for our weekly visit. Is she ill?” He looked around. “She is here isn’t she?”

“No Gamlen,” Bodhan responded, a frown creasing his face. “We haven’t seen her all day.” He shrugged. “Perhaps she’s with her suitor?” 

“Suitor?” Gamlen exclaimed. “She never mentioned a suitor. 

“Whose got a suitor?” Neoma asked walking through the door. 

“My mother apparently,” Hawke said. “Although she hasn’t said much to me about it.” 

“Well those lilies arrived for her this morning,” Bodhan said. 

“Lilies?” Neoma gasped. “White lilies?” 

“Yes, that’s right,” Bodhan said nodding. 

“White lilies?” Hawke said turning to Neoma, who had sunk to a chair and was looking quite ill and pale. “The Kirkwall Killer sends his victims white lilies…” She looked closer at Neoma. “Do you know anything?” she said sharply. Neoma looked up at Hawke, her eyes brimming with tears. She nodded. “Tell me!” Hawke demanded. 

“He’s taken her,” Neoma whispered. 

“No, you’re wrong. Leandra is fine,” Gamlen insisted. 

Hawke turned to her uncle. “Aveline will get the city guard to keep an eye out,” she said. 

Gamlen looked distressed. “Maybe I just missed her. Let me go see if she’s in Lowtown.” Hawke nodded and turned to Neoma as soon as her uncle had left the room. 

“Did you know and you didn’t say anything?” she demanded. 

Neoma looked sadly at Hawke. “Yes, I knew, but things haven’t happened the same here as in the story. I didn’t even know you knew anything about the Kirkwall Killer until you mentioned it now.” 

“How could you not tell me!?” Hawke yelled at her. 

“I told you, I didn’t know these events had occurred already!” she wailed back. “You didn’t ask me for information or tell me anything about the killer until now and your mother never told me she was seeing anyone! But I can help...” 

Hawke cut her off, pacing frantically. “I need to go look for her…” she muttered. 

“No Hawke, I know where he’s taken her!” Neoma said jumping to her feet. “You don’t need to waste time looking.” 

“Where?” Hawke demanded. 

“The Foundry. The same one where you found Ninette’s hand,” she said. “There’s a hidden trap door on the upper level. When you go through it you’ll find his lair.” She thought for a moment. “There’s… demons. He’s a necromancer.” 

“Fuck,” Hawke muttered. “Anything else?”

“Abominations. The undead…” She looked at Hawke pleadingly. “Please leave now. Get there in time. If you don’t have to waste time looking there might still be time to save her… Otherwise...”

Hawke nodded. She ran upstairs, taking them two at a time and changed into her armour. As she walked towards the door, she turned to Neoma. “I should have told you, but thank you for the information. Pray I’m in time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one! So many elements of this chapter have been written for a while, and I just had to get everyone here (hence the close posting of 2 chapters in such quick succession). It makes sense to me that the Free Marcher noble families would all kind of know each other, so why would a Trevelyan not be at a ball or some such? 
> 
> Also, I'm still undecided as to whether or not Leandra will survive actually. My first instinct was to keep things as they were in the game, but I feel like small changes to the timeline are inevitable and I've already started to introduce them. I guess we'll see where it goes. I have elements of the Inquisition section written already so trying to find the threads to bring everything together while still keeping it interesting! 
> 
> No, I totally haven't plotted things out already. We all kind of know where it ends up don't we? Even if there are some canon changes along the way... 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed :) As always, comments etc are always appreciated.


	12. Fates and Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke raced to the Foundry, Fenris, Anders and Varric hurrying along behind her, praying to gods she didn’t really believe in that she was in time. They burst in to find it eerily quiet.
> 
> “Trap,” said Hawke as she crouched down to disarm it. “Keep a lookout, and be careful. We need to locate my mother as quickly as possible.”
> 
> Does Hawke get to Leandra in time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry, I've been super busy at work and also writing another DA fic at the same time (it's called Unwritten if you're interested in checking it out), so I've been pretty quiet here. Also I was struggling with a couple of things and I could feel myself stagnating with this fic, so I've done the unthinkable and skipped ahead by quite a lot. I hope it's not too jarring for everyone, I've tried to make it flow while at the same time skipping over parts. I've written a whole lot of the upcoming stuff already, so I know where that bit is going for the time being at least. I hope you enjoy it!

Hawke raced to the Foundry, Fenris, Anders and Varric hurrying along behind her, praying to gods she didn’t really believe in that she was in time. They burst in to find it eerily quiet.

“Trap,” said Hawke as she crouched down to disarm it. “Keep a lookout, and be careful. We need to locate my mother as quickly as possible.”

The group entered cautiously, all their senses on high alert. “Look out! Demons!” called Fenris, drawing his sword as shades and a rage demon erupted from the floor on the opposite side of the room. 

They battled their way through the necromancer’s lair, Hawke becoming more frantic after finding Alessa’s body, the girl they had encountered in Gascard Du Puis’s mansion. Hawke cursed herself for not paying more attention to the situation. She’d turned him in, not trusting him but now she was wondering if he could have given her more information. With every step the anxiety within the group grew. They were all fond of Leandra, and none of them wanted to see anything happen to her. Room after room, the stench of decaying flesh grew stronger. Finally they reached a room that appeared to be set up more as a living area of some sort. A portrait hung on the wall that caused Hawke to do a double take. As they stepped forward to take a closer look, demons erupted around them, halting her curiosity until they’d been dealt with. 

As the last demon was dispatched, Hawke stepped towards what looked like a shrine. “The woman in the painting…” she said, “She almost looks like Mother.” 

“This man is either very devoted, or very insane,” Fenris said grimly. 

“I need to find her. Now,” Hawke replied, stalking towards the doorway leading deeper into the lair. 

They raced through the lair, deeper, when they suddenly heard a scream. Everyone froze, trying to determine where it was coming from. 

“Help me!” a voice shrieked from the room ahead of them.

“Mother!” Hawke shouted breaking into a run. “I’m coming!”

They burst into the next room to find Leandra bound to a table and an older, grey haired man standing over her with a knife. He glanced up at them as they entered. “No!” he shouted, realising he was about to lose his opportunity, and raised the knife. He brought it down over her heart, but before it could connect with Leandra a crossbow bolt slammed into his head, snapping it backwards. He collapsed, the knife clattering to the floor as his blood spread out in a pool around him. 

“Varric…” Hawke whimpered as the dwarf reloaded Bianca. “Thank you…” She didn’t wait for his response as she ran towards her mother. 

“Mother!” she cried. “Mother are you alright?” Leandra looked at her, eyes wide, her face covered in the necromancer’s blood.

“Marian?” she whispered. “Marian is that really you?”

“Mother I’m here,” Hawke replied, her fingers working on the knots of the rope. She released the knots and gathered a sobbing Leandra into her arms as the group spread out to see what they could find in the way of information about this madman. 

“Hawke!” called Fenris from the other side of the room. Hawke looked towards him, still holding her mother in her arms. 

“You need to see this,” he said. 

“I’ll stay with her,” said Anders, stepping towards them. “I’ll check her to see if she needs any healing.” 

“Mother I’ll be right back, Anders will be here with you. Will you let him heal you?” she asked, turning Leandra’s face towards her and looking into her eyes. 

She nodded slowly, clearly still in shock. 

Hawke left her with Anders as the soothing glow of his magic enveloped them. “What is it Fenris?” she asked walking over to him. 

“Take a look at this,” he said gesturing towards a headless body lying on a table nearby. “I suspect he was planning on completing this abomination with your mother.” He grimaced. The thought was quite horrific, as was the stench coming off the body. 

Hawke looked at the reassembled body parts lying on the table in disgust. The thought of her mother’s head attached to such a hideous assemblage of body parts was more than she could stand. “Burn it.” she said. “Burn everything and let’s get out of here.” 

They gathered everything of note they could find and carried a now sleeping Leandra, thanks to Anders, out of the Foundry, setting fire to any corpses, of which there were many, as they left. 

______________________

Neoma paced anxiously as she waited for them to return. She’d changed out of her dress and was in normal clothes, her armour and weapons close by in case she needed them. She looked up as the door opened and sagged in relief when she saw an unharmed Leandra with them. 

“Oh thank god,” she cried as she ran towards them. “You got there in time!” 

“I’ll carry her to bed,” Anders said to Hawke, who nodded and collapsed into a chair.

Neoma fell at Hawke’s feet. “Marian, I’m so sorry,” she gasped, her voice cracking as her eyes welled with tears. “I didn’t know…”

Hawke just nodded mutely, the relief at getting to her mother in time, the guilt at letting her be taken in the first place, too overwhelming for her to be angry at Neoma. She reached out and squeezed her hand.

Fenris put his arm around Neoma and pulled her to her feet. He had noticed Hawke becoming increasingly silent as they returned home, not her usual sarcastic self and he recognised her need to be alone. He felt it often enough himself. Arm around Neoma, he led her into another room to tell her what they’d found. 

Hawke stared into the fire. She needed a drink. Anders came back downstairs. “She’s sleeping,” he said. “She appears to be fine, although of course in shock. We got there in time though, she’s physically unharmed.”

He sat down next to Hawke who turned to look at him with tears in her eyes. He opened his arms as she leaned into him and wept in relief.

____________

Interlude

For the most part - you know what happens next, don’t you? 

The Qunari attacked Kirkwall, intent on converting all to the Qun. The Viscount was murdered. Hawke fought and defeated the Arishok. The Qunari (mostly) left Kirkwall but the city was in disarray. Isabela… well, Isabela disappeared. Hawke wouldn’t have admitted it, but she was deeply hurt by Isabela’s betrayal, and she became just a little more bitter towards life overall. 

On her bad days, the ones where she avoided leaving the house because, as she put it, “Everyone just wants something from me,” Neoma tried to just be there for her. She let her talk through it, and vent, but she also didn’t let her wallow. Well, not for very long anyway. 

The templars became more divided. There were those like Cullen who doubted their leadership but remained loyal to the Order, and those who zealously carried out their Knight-Commander’s orders and clamped down on the city even more than before. The mages exuded a sense of anger and anxiety that permeated everything. The city was on a knife’s edge. 

Anders became more cagey, and although Hawke would do anything for him, even she knew he was hiding something. She knew something was up. Neoma, not wanting to influence the world any more than she already had, tried to keep quiet. She turned the dilemma of Anders over and over in her head, but she could see no way around it. The influence of Justice on his mind was already entrenched. She tried in subtle ways to talk to him and discourage him from doing anything extreme, but she could see things unfolding as she’d expected when he started asking Hawke to gather ingredients for him, and she despaired of being able to change his mind. To be honest, she wasn’t even really sure if she should, but she knew his betrayal would kill Hawke who she had come to care for like a sister.

He’d moved into the Hawke mansion and one night when Marian was out and he and Neoma were sitting by the fire, Neoma in desperation said to him, “Anders… please I beg of you… don’t do what you’re considering.” 

He looked at her in surprise, remembering in that instant that she knew some of what was coming. His face became shrewd, an expression she didn’t like on his features - it made him look untrustworthy. “What are you going to do if I don’t change my plans?” he asked cautiously. 

Neoma looked at him sadly. “Nothing Anders. But… not everything will happen as you hope. And there are worse times coming.” She shook her head. “You’re going to kill so many people. Don’t you ever think back to who you were? When you met the Hero of Fereldan?”

He smiled sadly. It had been a long time since he’d thought about who he was before Justice. “But I’m not that person any longer Neoma,” he said. “That man was lost when… well, he was lost a long time ago.” 

“Would that man have murdered people?” she asked harshly. “Would he have betrayed his friends?” 

“No,” he said somberly. “No he wouldn’t have. But that man is gone now.” He looked her directly in the eyes. “Now there’s only me.” 

“Only you and Justice,” she replied. She got to her feet. “It’s not too late Anders,” she murmured. She heard Hawke’s key in the door and left the room, not wanting to have to explain her foul mood to her friend. 

_________________

Knight-Commander Meredith went crazy. They all knew it, and it was with certainty that Neoma knew what was coming. She hoped desperately that Anders had heeded her warning, but as they stood in the Gallows and she watched him step forward, watched the explosion rock the city, watched the look of horror on Hawke’s face as she turned to her lover in disbelief, she knew everything she said to him had been in vain. Hawke didn’t execute him, but she couldn't condone his actions and although she allowed him to stay as they sided with the mages against the templars, she refused to leave Kirkwall with him after the battle. Anders fled, his revolution initiated. 

And afterwards? Cassandra arrived in Kirkwall, seeking answers. Hawke slipped away, leaving her mother safe at their estate, knowing that she had been condemned by association with Anders. The mage rebellion made the political climate volatile and both Circles and Templar Orders all over Thedas rebelled against the Chantry. 

The friends separated, each going their own ways. Varric, while being interrogated by Cassandra, revealed nothing of Hawke’s location. Neoma and Fenris fled with Hawke, not willing to leave her alone. Out of necessity and because Neoma had no knowledge of the years in between Kirkwall and the events of Inquisition, she trained with them, bettering her fighting skills and although things weren’t always easy, for a time they hired themselves out as mercenaries until things in Kirkwall settled a little. 

Eventually they separated from Hawke, who felt the need to stay near enough to Kirkwall to keep an eye on her mother, but far enough away that she didn’t draw undue attention to herself. Neoma knew she kept in contact with Varric, but that he was being monitored by Cassandra, and she’d given him a heads up to keep Hawke hidden no matter what. Neoma had always believed Varric had made the right choice - the events of Inquisition was not Hawke’s battle.

Neoma and Fenris stayed together for years that followed, but Fenris’s need to hunt down all the Tevinter slavers meant he worried for her continuously, even though she now could hold her own in a fight. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her.

________________

Neoma could sense something was wrong. Fenris had been brooding more than usual these past few weeks and he was particularly bristly. They were staying in a small inn, only a few nights as they passed through on their travels, but the food was decent and it wasn’t busy enough for anyone to take particular note of them. They were yet another set of travellers. 

“Are you ever going to tell me what the problem is?” she asked him, sitting down next to him in front of the fire. They had booked one of the larger rooms in the inn that had its own fireplace so they didn’t need to spend a great deal of time in the common room. 

“There’s no problem,” Fenris mumbled. His gut twisted at the thought of lying to her. 

“Come on Fenris, don’t do this,” Neoma replied. “I know you too well for that.” 

He sighed heavily. “I’m worried Neoma. The last fight we had, you were almost captured. I really feel like you need to go back to Kirkwall and stay with Leandra.”

“This again?” she said rolling her eyes at him. “Fenris we’ve talked about this. I’m more than capable of looking after myself now. This is not like when I first arrived in Thedas.”

“You’re still vulnerable,” he said angrily. “And you’re hot headed and you run into battle situations with no regard for your safety.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she retorted. “Hawke trained me…” 

“Hawke, for all her impetuousness, is still more level headed than you!” he argued. “She doesn’t take unnecessary risks.”

“How can you say that?” she scowled. “I’ve saved your life more than once through ‘unnecessary risks’.”

“I am a warrior,” he snapped. “Whereas you are a girl playing at being one!”

Neoma closed her mouth with a snap, momentarily speechless at the hurtful comment that had come out of his mouth, and Fenris knew then what he had to do, no matter how much it hurt. 

“It’s time for you to leave,” he said abruptly. 

“What?” she asked softly. Her heart felt like someone was driving a dagger into it and she could feel herself drawing her shoulders in, trying to contain it. “Fenris you don’t mean that… after everything we’ve been through…”

“Yes well, that was… before…” he said. “You’re a liability to what I’m trying to accomplish. And much as I love you, this is just too much. I can’t be looking after you as well as trying to track down the slavers.” He knew it was cruel, but he didn’t know how else to get her to leave. How else to keep her safe.

“Fenris… you can’t mean that…” she said, her voice cracking. 

“I do,” he said. “I’m sorry Neoma, but it’s time we parted ways.” He tried to look her in the eyes but the look of pain on her face was heartbreaking. He forced himself not to give in. Not to cave and take her in his arms, tell her he didn’t mean it. She had to hate him, it was the only way. “I’ll leave in the morning,” he said, getting up and walking towards the door. “I’m going downstairs.” 

Neoma sat staring into the fire, not even noticing the tears running down her face. She wasn’t sure how it had come to this, she thought everything had been fine. She packed her things, deciding she would leave first thing in the morning. If he didn’t want her with him, then well it must be almost time for the Conclave. Inquisition was set about three years after the events in Kirkwall if she remembered correctly and it had been almost three years since they had left the city. 

She curled up in bed, drawing her legs up into a ball to numb the pain that was spreading out from her heart. She fell asleep, not hearing Fenris come in quietly, gather up his things, give her one last gentle kiss on the forehead and then disappear into the night. 

Neoma awoke in the morning to find his things gone, and knew exactly what had happened. She found the bill paid in full, so she gathered her belongings and began the long journey towards Haven. They had been on the border of Tevinter tracking slavers and it would take many months for her to travel to Haven...

Neoma was right about her estimation of time however, and not long after she and Fenris split, Divine Justinia, in an attempt to reach a peaceful conclusion between the mages and the templars, calls a Divine Conclave. Marcus Trevelyan, the very same who met Neoma and Marian at a ball in Kirkwall years before, attends as the representative of his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, yeah. Moving towards Inquisition now. I hope it wasn't completely awful, but I knew if I didn't do something about the passage of time here that I would stop writing this and I quite enjoyed the upcoming chapters.
> 
> Comments as always appreciated - even if they are critical (yet constructive please!) of how I handled this.


	13. An unexpected visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen pored over the maps spread out on the table. His shoulders hurt and he had the beginnings of a headache, a combination of stress and the lyrium withdrawal. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to ease the ache that radiated across his shoulders.
> 
> There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, not looking up. 
> 
> “Commander,” he heard the voice of one of his lieutenants and he glanced up, doing a double take when he saw the person walking in behind him, “we have a new arrival in camp Ser. She says she knows you.

Cullen pored over the maps spread out on the table. His shoulders hurt and he had the beginnings of a headache, a combination of stress and the lyrium withdrawal. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to ease the ache that radiated across his shoulders.

It didn’t help that the Herald was… not what he had expected really. He’d met him once before, many years ago in Kirkwall, and he’d seemed pleasant enough, but something had clearly happened over the years that had turned Marcus Trevelyan into a very different man. 

To say he was antagonistic and difficult to work with was an understatement. He wasn’t sure if they just didn’t see eye to eye or if Trevelyan actively disliked him but conversations between them were always awkward, even when it felt like he was making an effort. Cullen felt more comfortable if there were others in the room to mediate as Marcus’s need to assert his authority over Cullen got under his skin. It’s not like he’d been resistant to taking orders, but it felt like he made a point of disagreeing with him just for the sake of it. He sighed, trying to focus on their troops and which villages they should try recruit from next.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, not looking up. 

“Commander,” he heard the voice of one of his lieutenants and he glanced up, doing a double take when he saw the person walking in behind him, “we have a new arrival in camp Ser. She says she knows you. Her name is…” 

“Neoma!” Cullen said. “This is a pleasant surprise. You never managed to find your way home I see?” She smiled at him in a way that had always made his heart skip a beat. She was dressed in fitting leather armour with daggers on her hips and her dark hair was cut short in a style that drew attention to her high cheekbones and long neck. “Come in,” he smiled. “I haven’t seen you in… what, three, four years?” He nodded at the soldier to dismiss him. 

“Something like that,” she replied, stepping closer. “You look good Cullen. Some new scars here and there I see,” she said noticing the scar on his lip. He was still as good looking as ever and the scar really gave his face more character. She wondered how it had happened. “How have you been?” 

“I’m well,” he said. “No longer with the templars, however I suspect you already knew that.”

She grinned. “Yeah I had an inkling.” 

“Is Fenris with you?” he asked. The warrior elf had been her constant companion since their days in Kirkwall. 

“Oh,” she replied, grimacing just a little. “No. No he’s not.” She looked a bit uncomfortable. “Fenris and I… are no longer together. It’s… complicated. But he broke it off just under a year ago.” She felt the sadness creep up on her like it did every time she thought of him, but schooled her face into a more neutral expression. She didn’t want to cry in front of Cullen. 

“Oh, uh… I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. He’d seen the sadness on her face and didn’t want to push it any further, especially since a small, guilty part of him was happy to hear they were no longer involved. 

“Anyway, change of subject,” she said, smiling wryly, her tone becoming businesslike, “As I’m sure you remember from our time in Kirkwall, I can give you some insight into everything that’s happening now.” She shrugged. “If you’re willing I’d like to offer my help.” 

“Yes of course, I remember,” he said. “It would be best to introduce you to everyone at once however. In fact I’ll include Varric - I’m assuming you knew he was here?” 

She nodded. 

“He knew you from Kirkwall and then you have two of us to vouch for you.” He hesitated, wondering how much he should say about his feelings towards the Herald. “The Herald is… not the most trusting person,” he said carefully. “I mean, I understand why and he needs to have a certain amount of scepticism but he can be… difficult… to convince.” 

Neoma studied him, noting the tone in his voice. She gathered they didn’t have an easy relationship. “I’ll remember that when speaking to him, thanks for the heads up,” she said, noticing with amusement Cullen’s confused expression at her Earth expression. “Might I ask his name?” she said curiously, wondering which Inquisitor she would be dealing with.

“It’s Marcus Trevelyan,” Cullen replied. “I seem to recall you met him once in Kirkwall. The Trevelyan’s are Free Marchers.” 

“I remember,” said Neoma. “I must admit I’m surprised to hear you say he’s difficult, that certainly wasn’t the impression I got the first time I met him.”

“Yes, well...” Cullen said vaguely. “People change…Anyway, he’s still out in the field at the moment, but he’s due back tonight or tomorrow. He’s recruiting some mercenary company on the Storm Coast.” 

“Oh! Bull’s Chargers?” Neoma said, “The Iron Bull is a great fighter - Qunari. They’re a very valuable addition to the Inquisition.” 

Cullen smiled and shook his head. “I keep forgetting you know all of this,” he said. “It’s very disconcerting.” 

“Sorry,” she said. “I forget sometimes as well. I haven’t really known anything about the last few years, so I really only knew that this was coming, nothing more...” Her face became concerned. “I sometimes worry about how much I should tell you…” Her voice trailed off. “I mean, so much of it is variable, but then there are other parts that are quite certain. And then I also don’t really know what impact my presence has had… I’ve noticed small changes, but… what if it’s changed it so much that I can’t predict events?” She sighed. This was an argument she’d had with herself so many times.

“I’m assuming if you’re telling me this, that there was no way to stop it?” he asked, his forehead creasing.

She shook her head sadly. “The risks were too great - too much could have gone wrong and then we would be in a worse situation than we are now,” she replied. “I’ve turned it over in my head many times and I really couldn’t see a way around it.” 

An awkward silence hung in the air between them.

“Well, I’m just about done here,” Cullen said changing the subject. “If you’d like to go get something to drink? Where are you camped?”

“Oh, I’m with the soldiers,” she said. “I don’t think they quite believed me when I said I knew you, so they just billeted me down there with everyone who has arrived to volunteer.” 

“I’ll get you moved closer to us if you’d like?” he offered. “If you’re going to be speaking to everyone regularly it’s time consuming to walk from the camp down at the bottom.”

“That would be great,” she smiled. “But I don’t want to upset anyone.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll tell them on our way down to the tavern,” Cullen replied. “Do you know where it is? I’ll find the quartermaster and let her know and meet you there.”

Neoma nodded in agreement and made her way to the tavern. It had been a bit of a surprise how familiar everything looked, she knew exactly where to go simply by remembering the layout of the game. Sadly, as many times as she had played the game, after so many years in Thedas her memory of certain places and events had begun to dim, causing her no end of concern. It was all so fresh when she first arrived, but now? She tried to comfort herself with the fact that she remembered the important things.

She walked into the tavern, wrinkling her nose slightly at the smell of stale ale and unwashed bodies. One thing she would never get used to was the lack of concern people in Thedas had about body odour. When she was travelling she tried to wash every day if possible, even if it was in a river. Anything to wash the smell off. She ordered some food and wine - she’d never gotten used to the taste of ale and the wine was bearable - and sat down to wait for Cullen. Her food arrived as he did and he sat down next to her, conspicuous as always with his good looks, and now of course there was the addition of the fur cloak. He might have been a little shy with women in general, but he had a bearing and demeanour that made people notice him and follow without question. In fact she noticed a few women throw her a nasty look. She got the impression he didn’t spend much time here in general so his presence was noteworthy. “So how is the great Commander Cullen?” she teased him. “Still pondering the merits of calibrating trebuchets?” 

He looked at her with confusion. “What?”

“Oh never mind,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just a joke, maybe it will register at a later stage.” 

He smiled and shook his head, taking a sip of his ale. “So what have you been doing since I last saw you?” he asked. “You were scarce around the Gallows after the whole situation with Meredith and the Circle.” He grimaced at the memory, still painful for him after all these years. 

“Yeah well I figured you’d be busy getting the Gallows back in order after everything. Plus my combat skills were still pretty crap to be honest, and I needed to become somewhat useful if I was going to be here for any length of time, so I was training with Hawke and Fenris.”

“Useful skills? Like fighting skills?” he asked, embarrassed to realise he’d never actually wondered how she earned a living. He didn’t actually know much about her at all. 

Neoma laughed. “Well there isn’t much use for an artist of my particular skills in Thedas so I had to find something else to do…” 

“You’re an artist?” he asked, surprised. 

“Of sorts, yes. But in a medium that hasn’t really been invented here so a lot of good it does me. I’ve spent the last couple of years doing some mercenary work. Before that I was working with Hawke, doing some odd jobs here and there.” 

“From artist to mercenary! It’s quite the career change!” Cullen chuckled.

“Yes well, the thought of being a farmer never appealed to me much,” she smiled. “Too much dirt under the fingernails.” Cullen looked at her and then burst out laughing, loud enough that it drew a few looks.

Neoma looked up to see Varric approaching, drawn by Cullen’s laugh. He hadn’t yet recognised her so she stayed quiet for the moment. “Whoever made you laugh like that must be something Curly!” Varric grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh in public!”

“I laugh,” Cullen said defensively, looking slightly offended.

“Yes but it’s usually more of a chuckle, not an actual laugh people can hear if they’re not sitting right next to you!” Varric responded. He glanced at her, preparing to introduce himself and did a double take as he recognised her.”Neoma? I didn’t know you were here!” he exclaimed in delight.

“Still haven’t managed to come up with a nickname for me Varric?” she teased. “I’m going to start taking offence soon.” 

“Yes well it has to be right you know?” he said. “You’re a tough one to pin down.” He glanced at Cullen. “Well now I know why Curly is looking so happy.” Cullen went red and rubbed the back of his neck in his customary nervous gesture. 

“Where’s Broody?” he asked looking around for Fenris. 

“I’m not sure right now,” she replied a little stiffly. “I haven’t seen Fenris in about a year.” 

“Oh,” said Varric, glancing uncomfortably at Cullen who kept his facial expression under careful control. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Neoma shrugged. “It’s fine. Let’s change the subject though ok?” 

“Sure, sure, of course.” He sat down. “So what are you doing in Haven? Still predicting the future for us?” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not predicting the future Varric! It’s providing… insight into coming events.”

“So predicting the future…” Varric said, winking at her. 

“Ug, whatever,” she replied, laughing. “Anyway, Cullen thinks both of you will be needed to convince the Herald that I’m not full of shit.”

Varric’s face went curiously blank. “Yes, yes of course, whatever you need,” he replied. 

Neoma looked back and forth between them, noting the careful looks and diplomatic statements. “That bad?” she said. “I must admit, I didn’t think that would be the case from my… experiences.” She shrugged. “But I guess I don’t see the point in alienating the people I work with so an attitude seems pointless. Oh well, we’ll make it work.” 

Cullen nodded. “I’ll send for you tomorrow. We usually meet in the morning to discuss tactics unless he’s out in the field so it’s dependent on when he arrives back.” 

Neoma and Varric nodded. There was no use stressing about it until then, she’d had to convince plenty of people of the truth of her words before this, and not all were easily convinced. She became aware of how tired she was - it had been a long journey to Haven. “I think I’m going to get some sleep,” she said getting to her feet. “I’m happy to see you both,” she smiled. As she turned to go she realised she didn’t know where she’d been moved to. “Oh, wait, Cullen, where is my tent now?” she asked. 

“Oh yes of course,” he replied getting up. “I’ll show you. Varric, I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m also going to turn in after this.” They said goodnight and walked back, Cullen directing her to the new placement of her tent, closer to the rest of the Herald’s companions and the Chantry. 

“Thanks for everything Cullen,” she said. “I meant it, I’m happy to see you.” 

He smiled, feeling his stomach flutter. Ridiculous he thought to himself. You’re a grown man. “Me too. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned to go and impulsively she grabbed his arm, reaching up and bringing her lips to his briefly.. It took a second for him to register but as she pulled back, he smiled and asked, “What was that?”

Her lips quirked up in a small smile, “Just in case…” she replied echoing what he’d said to her in Kirkwall so many years ago. “Night Cullen,” she said, squeezing his hand and disappearing into her tent. 

He stood there for a second before making his way back to his own quarters, a small smile on his lips and a happy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in quick succession after such a long break - I hope that makes up for it! 
> 
> Comments always appreciated :)


	14. Strange but true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neoma finally sees Marcus Trevelyan, now the Herald of Andraste, again. He's a different man to the one she met in Kirkwall many years ago.

Cullen awoke with a start, certain he’d heard his name. 

“Commander?” he heard again from outside his tent. 

“Mmm, yes?” he replied groggily. 

“The Herald has returned Ser. He requests your presence in the War Room.” 

Cullen cursed himself for falling asleep. Of course the one time he decided that everyone was right and he spent too much time on reports, would be the time the Herald summoned him. “I’ll be right there, thank you.” He dressed quickly, his head still fuzzy from sleep, but clearing as he made his way to the Chantry and the War Room.

He was the last to arrive, and all heads turned towards him as he walked into the War Room. 

The Herald looked irritated. “Nice of you to join us Commander,” he said, an edge to his voice.

Cullen blinked in surprise. “My apologies for the tardiness Herald,” he replied. “I came as soon as I received your message.” He paused. “I was asleep when the messenger called me and requested my presence.” 

The Herald and Josephine both looked momentarily surprised. Leliana kept her face schooled in her forever neutral expression of course. 

“Asleep,” said the Herald. Cullen was known for being up all hours of the night so this came as a surprise to everyone.

“I do on occasion need to sleep,” Cullen said, the corner of his mouth twitching up slightly. “Strange but true,” he echoed something Neoma once told him. 

He noticed Leliana’s mouth twitch as the Herald looked at him curiously. “Anyway, you’re here now,” he said. “I’ve brought the mercenary group on board, I think they’ll be a good addition to the Inquisition.” 

“Bull’s Chargers,” Cullen stated, nodding. “Apparently they’re exceptionally competent.” 

The Herald looked at him curiously again. “And you know this how?” he asked. “I’ve only just arrived back with them…” 

Cullen looked a little uncomfortable. “Ah, yes. There’s someone else you need to see Herald. Someone I know from Kirkwall. She arrived in camp this morning, and while her story will…” he huffed a soft laugh, “most definitely sound unbelievable, I can vouch for her, and the information she can provide.” He looked at the Herald directly. “She’s the one who told me about the Chargers.” 

The Herald said nothing but Cullen could see his irritation. The Commander knew Marcus liked to be the one to share information, so it annoyed him that Cullen already knew about the Chargers. He held his tongue however and nodded. “Well, I guess it is late already, so I’ll meet with her in the morning. I’ll send word when I’m ready,” he said. 

Cullen nodded, thinking he would stop past Neoma’s tent to prepare her before he went back to bed. “If you need another perspective, you could also invite Varric,” he suggested. “He also knew her in Kirkwall.” 

The Herald nodded. “Goodnight then, I’ll see you all tomorrow,” he said and then turned on his heel and walked out of the room. 

Cullen breathed a sigh of relief. Considering how badly that encounter started, it didn’t end as such. Josephine had already left, following the Herald out, but as Cullen started to leave the War Room, Leliana stopped him. 

“Cullen. A moment...”

He turned to look at the Spymaster.

“This woman you spoke of. Is it the one you were with earlier today?”

He smiled wryly. “Nothing escapes you does it?”

She smirked at him. “Well, it is my job…”

He chuckled. “That it is. Yes, it’s the woman I was with earlier. I knew her…” he sighed, “a long time ago. In Kirkwall. Before… everything.” 

“And you trust her?” she asked carefully. She knew Cullen to be suspicious of most people so she was curious about this woman.

“I do,” he replied. “There has never been a reason for me to doubt the information she has provided, it’s always been… exceptionally accurate.” He smiled at Leliana. “Meet her, decide for yourself, but I’m confident you’ll feel the same.” 

“Hmm,” hummed Leliana. “Alright, I’ll keep an open mind.” She smiled. “Goodnight Cullen.”

“Night Leliana,” he said, turning and making his way towards the camp and Neoma’s tent. 

The air was brisk and Cullen shivered slightly, walking a bit quicker and pulling his fur mantle tighter around him. He wound his way through the tents and easily found Neoma’s. He hoped she wasn’t yet asleep as he approached. He scratched on the canvas and cleared his throat. “Neoma?” he asked. 

“Cullen?” she replied from within, poking her head out a moment later. “I didn’t expect to see you again tonight.”

He smiled. “Me neither. But the Herald has arrived back and wishes to meet you tomorrow morning. I just wanted to prepare you in advance as it will probably be quite early. He’s a morning person…” he quipped. 

She grinned and Cullen felt his heart flutter. Stop it, he thought to himself. You can’t let a kiss distract you. We need to close the Breach before you can even consider thinking about anything else. 

“I’ll be ready, not to worry,” she said. “I’m a morning person too.” 

He smiled back. “I better go warn Varric too, he’ll need to be there to vouch for you. Good night then.” 

“Night Cullen,” she said, watching as he turned in the direction of Varric’s tent.  
____________

The next morning, Neoma received the summons early, as Cullen had suspected. The Herald had no doubt wanted to put her on the back foot, but she was up early, dressed, ready and waiting. She arrived promptly, before the advisors even, and walked in to find the Herald standing with his back to her, leaning over the War Table. 

She cleared her throat. “Herald, you asked for me.” 

He spun around and she had an internal chuckle at the look of surprise on his face when he recognised her, which he quickly schooled into a scowl.

“Neoma Hawke,” he said. She didn’t correct him. They’d let people believe she was Marian’s cousin, so his assumption at her surname made sense. He’d find out the truth soon enough anyway. 

“Marcus Trevelyan,” she smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”

He scowled. “When Cullen told me there was someone here with information, I must admit I wasn’t expecting you. Why didn’t he tell me?” he said grumpily. 

“I wasn’t entirely certain you would remember her, if I’m honest,” Cullen replied, walking into the room. “It was many years ago you met and she looked a bit different then,” the Commander said smiling at her.

Grumpy though he was at being kept out of the loop, Marcus was curious. “Am I finally going to find out the mystery behind Hawke’s long lost cousin?” he smirked.

“Indeed,” Neoma smiled at him, noting the expression of surprise on his face. “Shall we wait for everyone to join us however?”

They didn’t have long to wait thankfully as the atmosphere in the room was decidedly tense. Marcus was unused to having people challenge him since he became the Herald, and this woman had been a source of frustration every time he encountered her. 

Leliana, Cassandra and Josephine joined them, all looking at her curiously. Varric, also summoned to the War Room, grinned at her as he walked in. Marcus and Cullen turned towards Neoma expectantly. “Go on then,” Marcus said, his tone making it clear she better get to the point. In her peripheral vision, Neoma saw Cullen roll his eyes and she grinned. 

“Right. Ok, well I’ll tell you the short version and then you can ask questions where necessary. Basically I was in an accident a few years ago, probably close to eight years ago now, and I ended up in Kirkwall. I’m not from Thedas however, I’m from a world called Earth, which is… another dimension I guess you could call it. You can ask Solas if he knows more about it. My world is in some ways similar to your own, but we have no magic. Our technology is much more advanced. Humans are the only race - there are no elves, dwarves, qunari and so on.” 

She took a breath. “The thing is, your world, the events of Kirkwall, the Blight, everything that’s happening now… that’s all part of a story on my word. A story with… variable endings...” she said carefully. “All the things I know, and part of the reason I was so awkward around you when we met,” she said nodding at Marcus, “are because of this story.” 

She turned and spoke directly to Marcus. “I do apologise for that. Hawke and I decided that the easiest way to avoid questions about me was to allow people to believe that we were related. The problem was when I met you, I was aware that you may become the Herald, which is why I was so flustered - I wasn’t expecting to meet you, although considering you’re a Free Marcher it makes sense but…” she shrugged. 

“What do you mean may become the Herald,” Marcus asked frowning. 

“Well, one of the things about this story is that the Herald of Andraste isn’t always a human man. It can be a man or woman, and it could also be an elf, a dwarf, or a qunari. I couldn’t be certain, so there’s no way I could warn you. I only knew that if the Herald was human, they would be a Trevelyan, the youngest of three children, but I wasn’t sure what timeline we were in…” 

Marcus’s scowled as he pondered her words. Neoma wondered if he was religious and actually believed he was the Herald of Andraste. She’d always played a Herald that believed it was chance rather than fate.

“If I might ask,” Leliana interjected, “was there no way for you to warn the Divine? Could this catastrophe not have been prevented?” Cassandra had obviously wanted to ask the same question because her perpetual scowl deepened as she turned towards Neoma. 

Neoma shook her head sadly. “There are too many factors in play here. The problem is not just the Breach you see above you, there is another enemy you need to prepare for, and if this had been prevented it might have been at the cost of the world itself. This way at least I can help you, if I had prevented it I would be as lost as the rest of you.” 

“Surely you could have done something!” Cassandra exclaimed taking a step forwards and slamming her hand on the table. “The Divine is dead! And you could have stopped it!” 

“What would you have me do Cassandra?” Neoma said, her voice taking on an edge. “Spare the Divine now only to have every one of you die when the being behind all of this found another way to achieve his goals? Did I want her to die? No, I didn’t, but I was also on the other end of the continent on the border of Tevinter when she called the Conclave, so how exactly was I even supposed to get here in time? I literally walked into your camp last night. The first person I came to see was Cullen, who knows I’m not bullshitting him because I knew him in Kirkwall. Tell me now, what would you have liked me to change about my actions? I’m all ears.” 

Silence descended on the room as everyone gaped at the newcomer. Cullen cleared his throat uncomfortably. Neoma wasn’t making things easier for herself.

She sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Of course you have questions, they’re just questions I’ve asked myself a million times and have no answers to.” She looked up and met Cassandra’s eyes. “I know how you feel Cassandra. You feel helpless, like you could have done something to save her. You couldn’t have. None of this is your fault. You’re welcome to blame me if it makes you feel better, but I’d much rather we talk about this when you’ve had time to process everything. I will answer any questions you might have to the best of my ability.” 

Cassandra calmed slightly although Neoma could see she was still troubled by the information. She turned towards the Herald. “And you Marcus? Do you have questions you would like me to answer?”

He stared at her, saying nothing. Neoma held his gaze, neither of them looking away. She knew this was a contest of wills. Eventually he clenched his jaw. “I need to think. I can’t say I’m entirely convinced. You show up here telling wild tales about being from another universe and being able to predict the future, but I have seen no evidence of this.”

“Herald, if I may?” Varric said, speaking for the first time. 

Marcus turned his gaze on Varric and nodded. He clearly had a soft spot for Varric, no matter how antagonistic he might be towards some of the others. 

“Neoma has never been anything other than straightforward with me in the time I’ve known her. She has provided valuable information that saved my life as well as those of my friends while in Kirkwall, and the only time things have ever gone awry was when information was withheld from her and she was unaware of the circumstances.”

Neoma knew he was referring to Leandra Hawke. She still got chills every time she thought about how close they had been to losing her. So much for not changing the world Neoma, she thought. Hopefully nothing bad had come of it. She refocused her attention on Varric who was still speaking.

“My suggestion? Give her a chance. Ask her opinion on things, and if her information doesn’t help you it can’t be any worse than guessing yourself.” 

Marcus considered the dwarf’s words. He nodded curtly and turned to Neoma. “You can stay for now,” he said. “We’ll see what happens.” He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving everyone staring after him. 

Neoma breathed a sigh of relief, sagging slightly. She looked around the room at the remaining advisors. “Well he’s more of an ass than the last time I met him,” she said. 

Cassandra gasped in horror at her words, while Josephine hid a smile behind her notes. Leliana kept her face carefully neutral. 

“How can you say that!?” Cassandra said. “He’s the Herald of Andraste!”

“And that gives him the right to be rude and act like he’s better than everyone?” Neoma replied raising an eyebrow. “I don’t agree. He’s the Herald of Andraste by chance. He gained the title because that’s what people hailed him as. Prior to that he was a guy you chucked in prison because you thought he caused an explosion. People’s perceptions change.”

Cullen chuckled at her strange terminology while the rest of them just looked confused. 

Cassandra looked scandalised by her words. Cassandra disapproves she thought to herself and almost smiled. 

“So Leliana,” she said turning to the Spymaster. “You know everything…” Neoma smiled at her.

Leliana’s lips turned up slightly at the flattery. “So many say…”

“What happened to Marcus Trevelyan? The first time I met him he was a charming, funny man, not this cynical, grumpy guy.”

Leliana studied the newcomer. She was direct, which the Spymaster liked. She clearly wasn’t revealing all her information, but Leliana understood that motivation. “I don’t know all the details,” she replied cautiously. “I know Marcus was sent to the Conclave as the family representative, but I didn’t get the impression it was an honour bestowed on him, but rather a punishment. A last chance to redeem himself as it were. I suspect he did something that his family felt brought their name into disrepute.” She shrugged. “More than that I do not know.” 

Neoma considered the Nightingale’s words. She remembered him complaining about being told what to do when she’d first met him, but she hadn’t gotten the impression he was particularly wild and needed to be brought into line. She nodded. “Ok, good to know,” she replied. “Now, I haven’t had breakfast, so I’m going to go track down something to eat.” She nodded at the women. “It was nice to meet you all, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks.” She looked over at Varric and Cullen and smiled at them, then turned on her heel and walked out of the room, the door thudding shut behind her.

There was silence. 

“Um… what just happened?” Josephine asked. 

Cullen and Varric exchanged looks and burst out laughing. “Yeah she has that effect on people,” the dwarf replied. “You get used to it.” 

____________

Marcus Trevelyan stalked through the camp. That… that… woman. She was infuriating. He didn’t even know why he was so unsettled by her. Technically she hadn’t done anything untoward, but she’d challenged him. In front of people! In front of his advisors! Her comments about who else could have been the Herald of Andraste brought to the fore all of his own doubts about the mark on his hand. He wasn’t a particularly religious man although he’d been raised in the Andrastian faith, and the way everyone reacted around him he was beginning to believe that perhaps he had been chosen by Andraste. That it was the Maker’s will. But now… now her attitude towards him made him… angry. And anxious. And uncertain. She seemed so much more confident than the first time he’d met her and all the mystery around her he’d felt certain would be resolved, still seemed to linger. 

He reached the training ground, stripped off his outer clothes and picked up a training sword and hefting a shield onto his arm. He began attacking the dummy with ferocity, taking out all his anger and frustration until the sweat dripped off him. He’d already bathed this morning, but he would have to do so again. Eventually he stopped to rest, leaning his head down between his knees as he tried to catch his breath. 

“I’ve never seen you fight before,” a voice said behind him. “Would you like to spar together when you’ve rested a little?”

He turned to see the object of his ire leaning against the training enclosure watching him. He scowled. “Are you following me or something?” he snapped. 

She looked surprised and then laughed. “You just had to say no if you didn’t want to,” she shrugged. “I was just on my way to get something to eat when I saw you taking on the dummy. I just thought you might like to fight something that fights back instead.” She pushed away from her spot. “No worries, I’ll see you later then.” She turned and began to walk away. 

Marcus gritted his teeth. “Wait…” he began. She stopped and turned to face him, a small smile on his lips. He sighed. “Yes, we can spar,” he said. 

“Are you sure? You’re not obliged to you know…”

“Yes I’m sure,” he responded tersely. 

She nodded, stepping forward. She picked up two training daggers from the weapon stand. Hefted them to get a sense of their weight and then walked into the training ring. “I’m fresher than you,” she said. “Would you like to wait a little to catch your breath?” 

He was tempted to say no, to prove he could beat her tired as he was, but he recognised that was stupid. He nodded in thanks and walked over to take a drink of water from the pitcher on the side. It was something Cullen had always insisted on and for which he was quite grateful now - clean water next to the training grounds. 

A few minutes later he was feeling refreshed enough to take her on. He stepped into the ring and nodded at her. Lifting her daggers, she circled him cautiously. One of Marcus Trevelyan’s strengths had always been his prowess as a warrior. He was strong and fast, but more importantly he was patient. And he was quite content for her to attack first. 

What he didn’t know is Neoma had trained with Fenris, who consistently pushed her to anticipate more, be faster, dodge quicker. Content that he had underestimated her, Neoma feigned an attack that Marcus blocked easily, and as he was still recovering she launched a quick, dual bladed spinning attack. He spun away in time but he was surprised. He realised suddenly that he might have underestimated this woman, and he began looking more carefully at her footwork for anything that might give her away. As she crossed her one foot over the other he swung his sword, expecting her to dodge. Instead she caught it in the cross of the daggers, pushing back against his considerable strength and sliding down under his shield, rolling to her feet behind him. 

They sparred backwards and forwards for a while and it was only after he shield bashed her and heard a collective gasp, did he realise they had an audience. He glanced around to see a number of soldiers, Cullen included watching them. 

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she attacked, although she could feel she was definitely slower than she had been. Her ribs ached from the shield bash. He saw her coming a moment too late and raised his sword to catch her blow, but she swiped his feet from under him and he landed on his butt, her dagger at his throat. 

“Do you yield?” she asked, grinning. 

“Do you?” he smirked. She looked down to find the tip of his sword at her stomach.

Neoma laughed and stepped back. “Nice one!” she responded. “I thought I had you.” She stuck her hand out to help him to his feet as the crowd cheered and then dispersed, realising the show was over. 

“And I underestimated you,” he acknowledged. “I thought you were here as a source of information, not as a fighter.” 

She shrugged. “Men often underestimate women,” she said winking at him. “It’s what gives us our advantage. Plus I was a mercenary before I came here, but honestly I think I just caught you off guard. There's no doubt you're a better fighter than I am.”

Marcus felt ashamed he hadn’t enquired about her life since the last time he’d seen her. He was about to apologise when Cullen walked over to them. He didn’t want his Commander to see him as uncertain, and so he held his tongue. 

“That was a good match,” he said. “Neoma you’ve improved since I saw you last,” he smiled. 

“You mean from being completely awful?” she laughed. 

“Well… that only comes with practice,” he said. “And I was just surprised you were able to hold your own against the Herald. He’s an excellent warrior.” 

Marcus and Neoma both reddened at the praise. Cullen was smart she thought to herself. He managed to diffuse any potential rivalry as a result of the match by complementing both of them in one sentence. 

“Thank you Cullen,” she said smiling at him. She noticed Marcus frown slightly before schooling his expression again and wondered what the problem was now. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go get that food I was after earlier.” She nodded at Marcus. “Herald. Thank you for the match,” she said.

She turned and made her way to the tavern, desperate for something to drink.

The men watched her go, Marcus’s face now creased in his customary frown. Damn him if this woman wasn’t still an enigma. One he intended to solve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interestingly my ideas about this story have changed a little since I first wrote some of these chapters, so I'm just as curious as to where parts of it are going. Hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> Comments always appreciated.


	15. Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neoma meeting people around the camp. What is the Herald's problem?

Neoma entered the tavern, still sweaty from her match with the Herald, but determined to eat something first before she washed up. She was starving. She ordered food and sat down to wait. It was times like these she missed her phone. The comfort of being able to browse social media while waiting for something and avoid all the stares that were currently aimed in her direction. 

She sighed, looking out over the tavern, noticing people look away as she made eye contact. People were clearly curious but unwilling to engage with her. 

“That was quite the show you put on,” Varric said sitting down beside her. 

“In the War Room or the training ground Varric?” she smirked. 

“Both of course,” the dwarf grinned. “And I do believe I’ve finally come up with a name for you after all these years.” He winked at her but didn’t say anything else.

“And?” she prompted. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“Of course not,” he replied. “You’ll hear it when you hear it.” 

Neoma rolled her eyes at him. “Of course. How could I expect anything else?” she grumbled. 

“I must say I think you’ve made quite an impression on the Herald,” he said watching her carefully. “He underestimated you, but he’s still uncertain as to how he feels about you.”

“Yeah I may have poked the bear,” she said wryly. “It wasn’t really intentional, but his attitude rubbed me the wrong way.”

“Poked the bear… I like that,” Varric said, pulling out his notebook and jotting it down. “I may use it…”

“Be my guest,” she smiled. Her food arrived and she tucked in hungrily. 

Varric watched her. “You know Neoma, you need to be careful here. Curly and I have always got your back, but people here don’t know you like we do. Don’t upset the status quo until everyone trusts you a little more…” 

“Yeah Varric, sure,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food. “I’m not an idiot you know…” 

He chuckled. “A fact of which I’m fully aware, but you are impulsive. And you have a tendency to say what you’re thinking just in your facial expressions alone. It can upset people.”

“Don’t wear my resting bitch face and say fuck the patriarchy. Got it,” she said, taking another mouthful of food.

He stared at her. 

“What?” she said, mouth full. 

“Resting bitch face? Fuck the patriarchy? What?” he asked.

She swallowed and grinned at him. “Yeah. Resting bitch face. My face in its natural state is not friendly. I have resting bitch face. It means people meet me and they automatically read, ‘fuck you’ in my expression.” 

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” the dwarf replied, shaking his head. 

“You’ll know it when you see it Varric,” she said, smiling cheekily at him. She got up, squeezed his shoulder and started to leave.

“See ya Rebel,” he called after her. 

Neoma stopped and turned around. “Rebel?” she asked.

Varric shrugged. 

She nodded. “Yeah… I like that. It can stay.” Then she walked out the door. 

An hour later, freshly bathed and changed, Neoma exited her tent, feeling at a bit of a loss. She decided to go and watch the troops train for a bit, to get a sense of where she might be able to fit in with Cullen’s training schedule. She knew she’d need to keep up her fitness levels to be useful if she had to go out in the field. She found Cullen overseeing troop training in his customary spot and she stood and watched him for a few minutes, noticing how people interacted with him. He finally looked up and saw her watching, smiling at her and raising a hand in greeting. She made her way over to him. 

“Cullen,” she smiled. “I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble this morning?” she asked.

He smiled back at her, noticing how blue her eyes were. How her hair framed her face. “No trouble,” he said. “He’ll come around eventually. I hope…”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Let’s hope. This will be so much more difficult if he doesn’t…” She looked around. “I was actually hoping I could train regularly with someone. Either your troops if you’re willing, or perhaps you can point me in the right direction. I don’t want to get rusty.”

“We have a number of soldiers here who train with daggers,” he said, nodding in agreement. “I think it’s a good idea. Training starts early in the morning, but if you’re busy with the Herald, there are always men here sparring, so you can join in at any point.”

“Great. Thanks Curly,” she grinned. 

He groaned. “Not you too… damn that dwarf.” 

She laughed and he couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his mouth at the sound. Varric always said he was too serious and he felt lighter when he was with her, even if it was only a moment here and there. He found himself thinking about her a great deal in the past few days and it worried him a little. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by Neoma, but it gave him a warm glow of pleasure every time he spoke to her. 

“Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. I’ll let you get back to work,” she said. “Always reports to attend to…”

He groaned. “It’s true… so much paperwork…”

“I remember someone telling me once that the higher you go up the food chain, the more time you spend doing paperwork and spreadsheets.”

He frowned. “What are spreadsheets?”

“Oh, um… like… planning documents. In a grid. Nevermind. It’s paperwork anyway.” She grimaced in disgust. 

“Well, it’s true from my experience anyway,” he agreed. 

“Mine too unfortunately,” she said. “Weirdly, things are both harder and simpler here for me. The lack of technology was the hardest thing for me to get used to. Things I took for granted you know? But they’re also more straightforward. Survive. That’s really the big one. I’ve never had to just… survive before.”

“That’s…” he faltered, trying to think of the right word.

“Pessimistic?” she asked. 

“Not quite the word I was trying to think of, but it will do I guess. I’ve never considered that might be how you feel about Thedas.”

She laughed. “Well, I mean it’s not all bad you know. There’s magic, which is awesome - I never experienced that before I came here. I’ve races other than humans which is also pretty cool. Humans everywhere can be pretty shit I guess, on my world and yours, but the fact that there are different races at all is amazing for me. I love it.”

Neoma smiled. “And then there are the friends I’ve made of course. The things I’ve learned.” She shrugged. “Yes, it’s hard. Survival here is hard. But it teaches you what’s important as well I think.” 

Cullen looked at the sadness that flitted across her face and wondered what she had lost when she came here. He resolved to ask her one day when he didn’t have to rush through such a serious conversation - he wanted to give it the attention it deserved. 

“Anyway, enough of that,” she said, shaking off the melancholy that had reared its head momentarily. “I’ll leave you be. I have some things I want to discuss with Leliana so I’m going to track her down.”

“Would you um… like to have some dinner later?” he asked. “With me I mean. Would you like to have some dinner with me?” Cullen reddened at how awkward he sounded and cursed himself. He’d been doing so well. 

She smiled shyly. “Yeah I’d like that. I think you’re probably busier than I am, so why don’t you come find me when you’re done ok?”

He nodded. “I’ll do that.”

She grinned. “See you later Cullen. Commander Cullen,” she added laughing. 

___________

Neoma went looking for Leliana in her tent, but she wasn’t there. She supposed it was too much to ask that people could always be found in their in-game spots she mused to herself. Figuring she’d try the Chantry next she made her way inside. Closing the door softly so it didn’t bang shut, she turned and walked into someone standing right behind her.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

“Why are you sneaking about?” a grumpy mail voice said. Neoma looked up to see Marcus Trevelyan glaring at her. 

“I wasn’t sneaking!” she protested.

“Seemed like you were trying to be all quiet, sneaking into the Chantry,” he accused. 

“I was trying,” she said through gritted teeth, “to not make a noise by banging the door somewhere people are praying. It seems to me that you are the one making the scene now…” 

He scowled at her. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I was actually just looking for Leliana,” she said tersely. 

“Why?”

“The why is none of your concern,” she replied. “It has nothing to do with the Inquisition.” 

His scowl got deeper. Ug, this woman was driving him crazy. Refusing to answer his questions. Hiding things from him. 

Neoma was a little surprised at herself. She knew she was being belligerent but his attitude towards her really grated. She rolled her eyes. “Fine, if you insist. I wanted to ask her where I could order certain shoes. Then I was going to ask Josephine about ordering some cosmetics. All mine are finished. To my own account of course before you make some sarky comment about the Inquisition not paying for my luxuries. Does that make you feel better Herald?”

There was no way he was going to apologise for overreacting so he merely grunted then turned and stalked away. 

“Ug. Men,” she muttered, walking towards Josephine’s office. She didn’t notice him turn and watch her once he was safely in the shadows. 

She knocked tentatively on Josephine’s door and waited till the Ambassador called for her to enter. She was pleased to see Leliana was there as well. 

“Oh, you’re both here! Great!” she exclaimed. “I was hoping you could help me if you don’t mind.”

“Neoma, of course,” smiled Josphine, her accented voice sounding even lovelier in real life. “How can we help you?”

“Well, um… it’s actually a bit of a girly thing,” she said shyly. “I was hoping you might be able to help me order some cosmetics and some shoes.” She sighed. “I’ve been travelling for so long that most of my cosmetics are finished, and my boots, well they can be repaired of course, but it’s not the same as ordering good quality new ones.”

“Oh of course!” exclaimed Josephine. “I thought you were here on much more formal business, but I will… we will,” she corrected, glancing at Leliana, “absolutely help you.”

“Thank you! I don’t expect you to pay for it of course. I have money, you must just tell me how much it costs.”

“Yes, yes, we can sort that out later,” the Ambassador grinned. She pulled a sheet of parchment closer to her and picked up her quill. “Now, what kind of cosmetics are you looking for?”

About half an hour later Josphine had made a list, with a couple of extra things that popped up while they were talking. Neoma said her goodbyes and thank yous and exited the Chantry. She knew the Chargers were just outside the main gate, and she wanted a chance to meet The Iron Bull in person. 

She stopped as the walked through the gate. The Herald was in conversation with Bull and she didn’t want to interrupt and earn further ire from him. She waited patiently off to the side. 

“Are you waiting for the Herald?” 

Neoma turned. A man in armour had walked up beside her and was looking in the direction of the Herald and Bull. “No actually, I was waiting for The Iron Bull,” she replied. “You’re Krem,” she added.

Krem turned and studied her. “I am,” he replied. “And who might you be?”

“Oh shit, sorry. Yes of course. I’m Neoma,” she said, smiling and sticking out her hand. 

Krem appeared a bit taken aback by her demeanour, but he put out his hand and shook hers. “So, when did you join the Inquisition?” he asked politely. “You’re looking for Bull and yet I’d remember if we’d met you before.”

“Oh, only yesterday,” she said looking towards Bull and the Herald who were still engaged in conversation. “But… well, it’s complicated.”

Krem laughed. “Isn’t it always?”

She grinned. She liked Krem even more in real life she decided. “Yeah, that’s true. Anyway, I knew many of the men here in Kirkwall. The Commander, Varric, even Marcus.” 

“Who?” Krem asked.

“Marcus Trevelyan. The Herald,” she said.

“Oh, right. I guess I never thought to ask his name. He seems quite comfortable with people calling him Herald.” 

She looked thoughtful. “Yes he does, doesn’t he?” She looked around to find Marcus watching her. He reddened a little at being caught but then walked off without a word. “It was nice to meet you Krem. I hope we see more of each other,” she smiled. 

Neoma made her way over to Bull. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Neoma. I’ve been wanting to meet you.” Damn, but Bull was huge. She always forgot how large qunari were.

“Is that so?” Bull replied smirking. “Do I need to ask why?” 

Neoma grinned. She knew Bull’s reputation. “It’s not to ride the bull if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

Bull’s grin widened. “Well perhaps not now. But we’ll see…” he laughed. “Now Neoma, how can I help you?”

“Actually, I’m not asking you to,” she replied. “I’ve just heard a great deal about you and I wanted to meet the man himself. Bull’s Chargers have quite the reputation, especially in mercenary circles.” 

“And you mix in mercenary circles I suppose?” he said. 

“I have been known to dabble,” she replied, winking at him. “A Ben-Hassrath should know that already…” 

Bull’s expression became shrewd. “That spread through the camp quickly.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said. “I just have inside information.”

“Well, perhaps we can discuss that at our leisure. Over dinner perhaps,” he shrugged. 

“Sadly for you I have dinner plans already,” she smiled. “But perhaps another time. See you Bull.”

The Iron Bull watched her walk away in the direction of Varric’s tent. Krem appeared beside him. “Keep an eye on that one Krem. And ears open.”

“You got it boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just need to get some day to day stuff out of the way :) Meet and greets all round. 
> 
> Comments appreciated always :)


	16. A cabin in the woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Neoma sneak away for dinner. The Herald must make a decision about the templars and mages.

Cullen finished up with the training of the recruits, sent them packing to get some food and rest, and went to go get cleaned up. He spent a little extra time on his hair, feeling uncharacteristically nervous at the prospect of dinner with Neoma. He decided to remove his armour even though he felt naked without it, but it didn’t seem right to be seeing her for dinner still dressed in what he’d been training troops in all day. Was he reading too much into this he thought to himself. Maybe this was just a simple meal and here he was treating it like it was something more. He sighed. He’d find out soon enough he supposed. 

Leaving his tent he made his way through the camp towards Neoma’s. He was trying to act casual and felt like he was failing spectacularly. He took a deep breath as he approached, trying to quiet the butterflies in his stomach, and scratched on the canvas.

“Neoma?” he called. 

“Just a minute!” her voice called from inside. She poked her head out shortly after that. “Hi!” she said. 

“Hi?” he replied, looking confused. “I’m assuming that means hello?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Sorry. You want to come in for a second, I’m just putting on my shoes.” She disappeared back inside her tent.

He ducked his head and entered, looking around. Her tent was smaller than his own but they weren’t too cramped with two of them. He could stand upright anyway. She didn’t have many belongings with her, just a bedroll, a small table and some sort of bag that he assumed had her clothes in it. Her daggers lay on the table in their sheaths. She was pushing her feet into a pair of boots. She turned and he noticed she was also without armour, wearing a white linen shirt that was just a little transparent in this light, tucked into a pair of fitted breeches. 

“Is it cold out?” she asked.

“Oh, uh, yes Haven is cold at night, although it’s warm in the tavern of course,” he replied.

“I’ll take a jacket then,” she said, looking around her. She picked her jacket up off her bedroll. Turning to him she smiled brightly. “Shall we go?”

He stepped back and held the tent flap open for her, stepping out into the cold air behind her. “I’m sorry it’s just at the tavern,” he said apologetically. “We’re not spoiled for choice here at Haven.” 

She shrugged. “It’s fine. Although…” she stopped suddenly and looked thoughtful. “I have an idea. Do you know where the old herbalist’s cabin is?”

“Master Taigen?” He nodded. “Yes I know it.”

“Has it been assigned to anyone?” she asked.

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Cullen said, seeing where this was going. 

“Could you go and get some food and meet me there?” she grinned. “Then we can talk without the noise or people interrupting.” 

He smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Great,” she said, squeezing his arm. “I’ll see you shortly.”

They split up. Neoma made her way cautiously to the cabin, making sure no one followed her or that another couple had the same idea as her. She would have hated to interrupt something. Thankfully, it was empty when she arrived and she lit some candles she’d grabbed from her tent on the way there. It was times like this she wished for a lighter or matches rather than a tinderbox. Or electricity. How she missed electricity. 

When he arrived she might ask Cullen to light a fire in the grate she decided. She could do it, but she was terrible at it and the whole process took her far longer than it should, as Fenris had reminded her on more than one occasion. 

Fenris. No. She wouldn’t think about him. This was not the time. 

An awkward knock sounded on the door and she opened it to see Cullen carrying two plates of food, some cups and a bottle of wine. He’d knocked on the door with his foot. 

She took the plates of food from him, holding the door open by leaning on it, as he came inside. 

“It’s a little dusty,” she shrugged, placing the plates of food on the table, “but I figured the table and chairs could be wiped down easily enough. You may need to light a fire though. I would but it takes me a while to get it going…” 

He nodded and put the wine down next to the plates. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold air, or the fact they were alone in the cabin, but he was feeling bold and he reached out and took her hand and pulled her towards him.

Neoma didn’t resist, although while Cullen might feel brave, she was feeling suddenly anxious and shy. She had always been attracted to him, but suddenly it seemed very real and her stomach was filled with butterflies.

He didn’t do anything untoward however, he merely drew her into his arms and hugged her. She relaxed into him, leaning her cheek against his chest. They stood like that for a few moments, just feeling the warmth of each other. 

“I can feel your heart beating,” she murmured. 

“Too fast I’m sure,” he chuckled, leaning down to kiss her hair softly. 

“Probably about as fast as mine,” she smiled into his shirt. 

He said nothing but she felt his arms squeeze her tighter and she leaned into the comforting presence of him. He pulled away gently. “Shall we eat before it gets cold?” he asked, his mouth curling into a lopsided grin. 

They sat down to eat, Neoma pouring the wine. The conversation flowed easily as they talked about people they had both known in Kirkwall, or new companions in Haven. Neoma avoided mentioning people like Dorian and Cole who would only join them later. She’d wait to see who they recruited - the mages or the templars - first before giving more information. Plus she figured she should probably try tell Marcus everything first as he was clearly very touchy about his authority. 

Cullen started a fire after dinner and they sat and drank wine on some blankets they scrounged up from one of the other rooms, talking easily about whichever topic the conversation strayed towards. Eventually, the bottle of wine now finished, Neoma sighed. “Well, I suppose we should head back. You’ll need to be up early for training, and you never know when the Herald might summon us. We wouldn’t want to be late,” she smirked, rolling her eyes a little.

Cullen chuckled but nodded. “Indeed. I’m hoping he’ll come round eventually. He’s not making many friends and while he needs to assert his authority, I do feel that a likeable leader is better than one who rules via fear.” 

He got to his feet and reached down a hand to help her up, pulling her to her feet, but before he could let go, she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Unlike the last time, this wasn’t a brief peck - her lips were soft, but demanding. He pulled her towards him, kissing her back hungrily. Her lips parted and her tongue darted into his mouth, tasting sweet like the wine. His hands roamed down her back, feeling the dip of her waist, the swell of her ass as he reached down to cup her cheeks and pull into him. 

Neoma moaned softly, and he felt desire rise within him. She could feel the hardening length of him through his breeches and a pooling heat between her legs. She pressed herself against him, her hand slipping down to grab his ass. Cullen groaned and pulled away while he still had the willpower, disentangling himself gently. He rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. 

“Neoma,” he murmured. “Much as I want this… and I do, really want this... I don’t want to rush. Because how I feel right now…” he took a deep breath trying to regain a measure of control, “well let’s just say I’m struggling to be a gentleman.”

“What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?” she said hoarsely. She understood his reasoning but she wanted him badly and patience had never been her strong suit.

He groaned. “Don’t say that… my control is hanging by a thread as it is.” 

Neoma sighed in frustration, the soft huff of her breath sending shivers across his skin. “Fine. I guess I can wait a little longer,” she said petulantly. She leaned up and kissed the side of his neck, making him briefly doubt the wisdom of his decision, but then she was stepping back out of the circle of his arms.

They gathered up the remnants of their dinner, dousing the fire and candles, and made their way back towards the camp, unhurriedly, just enjoying each others company. He escorted her to her tent first.

“I had a great time, thank you Cullen,” she said shyly. 

“Me too,” he smiled. “I’d like to do it regularly, even if it’s not always in a cabin outside of camp.”

“Likewise. I’ll see you tomorrow I guess. Night.” She turned to go into her tent, but he captured her arm and pulled her to him, kissing her in front of anyone who might be watching. Not that the camp was busy, but there were a few eyes that took note. 

“What happened to control?” she smiled and he laughed.

“Yes. That. Alright. Night,” he said turning to go.

She watched him walk away with a smile on her lips, before ducking into her tent out of the cold. 

Varric, on his way back from the Singing Maiden, smiled to himself. He’d noticed both of them disappear earlier and was curious as to where they’d gone. He was pleased for Curly. The dwarf knew he’d harboured a crush on her for many years but was too much of a gentleman to do anything about it while Fenris was around. Clearly the feeling was, at least now, reciprocated. He was pleased for both of them actually, Maker knows life with Fenris couldn’t have been easy - the elf attracted trouble like moths to a flame. Not that life in the Inquisition would be smooth sailing either, but a war was different. You took pleasure where you could find it. He stepped into his tent, a smile on his lips and a slight sadness in his heart for what he’d lost himself. 

Another pair of eyes also noticed the exchange between the Commander and Neoma. The Herald, on his way back to his cabin from a meeting with the Spymaster, noticed them walking out of the woods together. He slipped into the shadows as they passed and saw Cullen kiss her outside her tent. Jealousy stirred unbidden in his chest, which surprised him a little. He barely knew her, had met her once prior to this, and in fact she actually infuriated him most of the time, but he was inexplicably drawn to her - perhaps even more so now than he was in Kirkwall. 

It’s not that he wished ill on the Commander. Cullen had been nothing but polite and accommodating, but their relationship had been strained since the Conclave. He felt as if people looked up to Cullen as a strong leader, and his own insecurities about his position left him trying to assert his authority at every turn. And now… now the Commander had her as well. He scowled, particularly when he saw her face as Cullen walked away. He gritted his teeth in frustration and returned to his quarters, the jealousy sitting in his chest like a rock. 

_____________

Cullen was the last one to walk into the war room. The Herald had called a meeting while he was halfway through his morning meal and by the time he arrived everyone else was already there. 

“We need to talk tactics,” he said. “Specifically with regards to the mages and templars. We need to make a decision and soon.” He began pacing. “Alexius is going to want another meeting soon and if we make that move we forfeit the chance to recruit the templars.” He stopped and looked at everyone. “So? Final thoughts?” 

“Uh, forgive me Herald,” Cullen began, “But would it not be worthwhile including Neoma in this conversation?”

“Maker’s Breath Commander,” he snapped, “This is a discussion for those of us leading the Inquisition. Everyone else does what we tell them to!”

Cullen gritted his teeth, his irritation rising but he kept his voice neutral. “I’m suggesting it because of her knowledge of what is to come. She’s proven to more than one of us she has good insight into the upcoming events and we would be fools to disregard that.” 

There was a tense moment where it seemed as if the Herald would snap at Cullen for insinuating he was a fool, but then he backed down and had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “I suppose you have a point,” he conceded. “Fine, she can join us.”

Cullen nodded and asked the guard stationed outside the door to call Neoma. The atmosphere inside the room remained however, with no one speaking for the minutes it took for her to arrive. She walked in and halted abruptly, feeling the tension in the air. “Good morning,” she said. “You asked for me?” 

“Cullen has pointed out that it would be useful to include you in these tactical meetings,” the Herald stated. “Given your supposed knowledge of the future of our world.” His tone made it clear that he was still unconvinced, but Neoma knew he would come around eventually, even if they didn’t like each other. She nodded. “Sure. What do you want to know?” Her Earth colloquialism differentiated her from the others in the room, and Cullen wondered briefly if she’d done it on purpose. 

“We need to make a final decision on the mage, templar issue. I need to know the pros and cons of these decisions.” 

“In the long term, if you side with the templars, you’ll end up facing a Tevinter mage called Calpernia who will lead the mages against you at some at some point. If you play your cards right though she’ll abandon the fight, which makes things a bit easier. If you side with the mages, then you’ll face a templar called Samson…”

“Samson!” exclaimed Cullen looking startled. Neoma hadn’t shared this information with him until now. 

Neoma nodded. “Yeah, Kirkwall Samson. It’s complicated, but either way, Samson is less likely to back down. He’ll lead the templars against you.” She shrugged. “It’s a tough fight either way to be honest but I would personally go with the templars even though I would personally prefer to side with the mages. Ser Barris will be the one to lead the templars if they join you and he’s a valuable addition to the Inquisition. Either way, you should offer the mages or the templars an alliance, don’t conscript them even if you feel it’s necessary. It will create bad feeling and you want people to join you because they want to help, not because you force them to.” 

All heads turned towards the Herald. “We’ll see,” he said. “As you’ve said, it’s my decision to make.” He was clearly asserting his authority. 

Neoma inclined her head, “As you say,” she replied although her voice made it clear she disapproved. Neoma disapproves she thought to herself and had to refrain from smiling. It was the Herald’s decision and she couldn’t defy him in front of everyone without gaining his ire. 

The Herald appeared to come to a decision. “Templars it is then.” He looked around the room. “Make the necessary arrangements. We leave first thing tomorrow for Therinfal Redoubt.” 

As everyone made to move out of the room, Neoma spoke. “Herald, a word in private if you please.” The Herald looked at Neoma coolly and then nodded, motioning for everyone else to leave and close the door. He turned to look at Neoma and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“What is your problem?” Neoma asked him. 

“Excuse me?” the Herald replied, looking shocked. No one had spoken to him like that since he joined the Inquisition. 

“You heard me. I’m trying to help you here and whether you believe me or not, your attitude towards me is clearly confrontational. We need to resolve this now or else this relationship is going to become untenable. I know you don’t necessarily believe everything I say, but I have provided good information and given you no reason to distrust me. I thought we were reaching a working relationship, but I was clearly mistaken!” 

“Fine, you want to know what my problem is?” he snarled. “The problem is that my advisors are looking to you for decisions. I may not be the sole leader of the Inquisition but people need someone strong to take charge, and you’re usurping my authority!” 

“Usurping…” Neoma laughed in disbelief. “You’re jealous!” 

“What!?” sputtered the Herald. “I am NOT jealous!” He scowled. “YOU cannot close rifts. YOU cannot negotiate with any authority, and yet you waltz in here, with your fantastical stories, telling people what to do, half the men and women in the camp making eyes at you… the Commander included.”

“Ha! You ARE jealous!” Neoma grinned triumphantly. “My stories might sound fantastical but have I been proven wrong yet? You’ve had more than one person in a high enough position vouch for the truth of my words, and I’m not telling people what to do, I’m trying to advise and prepare you for the consequences of your actions! And anyway,” she added as an afterthought, scowling back at the Herald, “what people do or don’t do with their eyes has nothing to do with me.” 

Neoma started pacing. “Don’t you understand? My decisions or advice don’t matter!” she said urgently. “YOUR decisions are the ones that make the difference. Even if I wanted your position as Herald, which I don’t, to be clear, it’s pointless. The battle, the consequences, everything… it all hinges on you!” 

She turned to face the Herald and looked at him, willing him to understand. “Please. I don’t give a damn about authority, I really don’t. You are the one with the mark, you are the only one who can close the rifts. You have absolutely no reason to be jealous.” A thought occurred to her and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Unless… unless you have feelings for the Commander? Do you? Is that what all this is about?” 

The Herald blushed and then scowled to cover his embarrassment. “No. That’s not what this is about. It’s not… it’s not him.” He fiddled with a ring on his finger, the hand without the mark. He was silent, clearly in thought. He sighed. “I’m... sorry.” It was clearly difficult for him to say and Neoma’s eyebrows went up in surprise. 

“I felt threatened, but… perhaps I am being irrational.” He looked up. “I do still find what you say difficult to believe, but yes, more than one person has vouched for you. I should try and give you the benefit of the doubt.” He looked down at his hands again and mumbled, “And it’s not Cullen… it’s… someone else.” He blushed again. He was quite attractive without the perpetual scowl on his face she thought to herself. She wondered who he was interested in. 

“Marcus,” she began, “I really don’t want to fight with you. I absolutely do not want to be in a position of authority here, so please don’t feel threatened.” 

She stepped towards him and put a hand on his marked arm, not realising the effect she was having on him as she did it. “I can absolutely promise you that I will always be up front with you about any decisions you make, to the best of my ability. I will not stroke your ego however. Having advisors that just tell you what you want to hear, is pointless, and no, I’m not an official advisor by any means, but let me help where I can. Please.” 

He swallowed hard, wishing she’d step away. Knowing she was seeing the Commander made this uncomfortable for him, even though she appeared oblivious to his feelings. He supposed he hadn’t been very nice to her so why would she think he felt anything other than antagonism towards her. He cleared his throat and gently pulled his arm from hers.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it hurt?” she asked. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, no, it’s… uncomfortable sometimes when someone touches it, but it doesn’t hurt all the time,” he muttered, using it as an excuse. He sighed, looking down at his hands. “I am… willing to try... “ he said. “Perhaps I need to try harder with everyone actually. I’ve had so much… pressure from all sides that I didn’t really stop to think that I might be… difficult…”

He looked up to see a smirk on her face. “Well that’s the understatement of the year,” she replied. When he reddened again, she laughed, “I’m teasing you.”

Neoma stuck out her hand. “Friends?” she asked. “Or at least, not enemies?”

Marcus hesitated momentarily then took her hand and shook it. “Friends,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all kind of evolving from my original plan, but I still have a larger plan for everything :)
> 
> Comments always appreciated. Thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks and hits! I noticed this story is almost on 900 hits which is amazing - thank you so much!


	17. The Singing Maiden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Solas tell the Herald about Skyhold? Marcus attempts to be a better person.

Neoma had been avoiding Solas for about a week, ever since she arrived in Haven. It was hard knowing he was responsible for so much of the chaos, even if it had been unintentional. Kind of. Well, he hadn’t intended these consequences certainly. Either way, she wasn’t very good at not letting her emotions show on her face, and it was a worry for her that her expressions would give away her dislike of someone she didn’t even know. 

Of course, now that she was trying to avoid him, it meant she literally ran smack, bang into him as she was coming out of Adan’s cabin, where she’d been stocking up on some healing potions. She cursed. He hadn’t been there when she arrived just fifteen minutes prior, so she thought she was in the clear. 

“Oh, um, sorry…” she muttered, looking down and hoping she could make a quick escape. 

“It’s quite alright,” he replied politely. “You must be Neoma. I’ve heard about you but we’ve never had the pleasure of being introduced. I am Solas.”

Neoma looked up into Solas’s face, expecting… well, to be honest, she wasn’t really sure what she was expecting, but a handsome face with intelligent, warm eyes was not it. “Uh, yes… hi,” she muttered, trying to avoid eye contact. 

“Have I done something to upset you?” he asked, his forehead creasing. 

“What? Oh, no… I um…” She took a breath and straightened. Might as well get this over with. “Right. Look, I uh… don’t know how much the Herald has told you... or anyone else really... about why I’m here?”

Solas shook his head. Marcus had said nothing about her, the elf had learned her name from Varric, who had also been quite cagey about her presence and who she was exactly.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course he hasn’t. Typical. Well… um… there’s a big battle coming. And Haven will be destroyed.”

Solas frowned as she said it. “A battle? How can you know this?”

“Well, that’s a bit complicated, and something I think I’d rather explain to everyone at once? I mean, Marcus and his advisors all know, and Varric knew me in Kirkwall, so he knows, but it can be difficult for people to believe, so if I don’t have to tell the story multiple times that would be easier… Anyway, I think that’s a decision he has to make, How much to share I mean.” She shrugged. She was rambling from nerves but she guessed her story didn’t make much sense to him anyway. “The point is, if people can start evacuating Haven secretly before the battle, it would save countless lives.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” Solas asked. “I’m not quite sure what that has to do with me specifically. And where would they go even if we could evacuate them?”

“Weeeeell, that’s kind of where you come in,” she said. “You need to tell them about Skyhold.”

Solas stilled. His eyes searched hers, looking for… something. He didn’t quite know what. “Skyhold?” he said.

She sighed. “Come on Solas, we don’t have time for games here. Either you tell them about Skyhold now, or you wait till Corypheus attacks Haven, loads of people die, and then when everyone is freezing to death out in the snow, you tell the Herald then. Because that is exactly what will happen, I’m just trying to save a few more lives in the process.” 

His eyes narrowed. Damn it, she had mentioned Corypheus. She hadn’t meant to, but it had just slipped out. He might not admit it now, but he knew exactly who she was talking about.

“I… need to think on what you’ve said,” he replied. “What will you do if I don’t agree?”

She stared back at him calmly. “Nothing. I can’t force you to give away the location, but if you’re ok with the deaths of those people on your conscience then… well that’s up to you. I guess I’ll just judge you for it if you care.” She hoisted the bag with the healing potions on to your shoulder. “Anyway, it was a pleasure. Please think on what I’ve said.” And she walked away.

Solas watched her go, his thoughts in turmoil. He didn’t quite know what to make of her. It troubled him, her knowledge of Skyhold. And if she knew of Skyhold and Corypheus then… did she know everything else? 

____________________

“Neoma,” a voice called as she was walking across the camp. She turned to see Cullen walking towards her from where he’d been overseeing training. Her face lit up in a smile causing his heart to stutter. He hadn’t seen much of her in the last week. Since the Herald’s departure for Therinfal Redoubt, he’d been snowed under with reports and responsibilities that needed to be managed and he missed seeing her. 

“Cullen,” she smiled shyly. “You’ve been busy.”

“Sadly, yes,” he replied. “But I was hoping we might have dinner tonight if you’re free?” 

“I’d like that,” she said. “Oh, wait, shit. I promised Varric I’d meet him at the Singing Maiden. You can join if you’d like?” she asked hopefully.

Cullen didn’t really want to share her with everyone else, but he guessed it was that or not see her at all tonight. He shrugged. “Certainly. I’ll see you later then?”

She smiled happily and said her goodbyes. The Commander turned back to his recruits and spied Knight-Captain Rylen grinning at him. “What?” he asked. 

“Oh nothing,” he smirked, but his eyes drifted towards Neoma’s retreating figure. 

Cullen glared at him. “Don’t you have recruits to train?” 

“Aye, I do,” Rylen replied. “But you don’t. You might want to consider taking a lunch break…” 

Cullen reddened but scowled to cover it. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern Knight-Captain. You may return to your training duties.”

Rylen laughed and shook his head as he walked away. Cullen was normally so serious, and to see him smile and even laugh on occasion when he saw this woman had many of the soldiers gossiping. Personally Rylen was happy for him. He’d known Cullen a long time and he’d never seen him vaguely interested in being in a relationship with anyone - he hoped it worked out for them. 

__________________

Cullen opened the door to the Singing Maiden, the blast of warm air and noise washing over him as he stepped inside. The Herald had arrived back in the afternoon, his expression sour, with a handful of templars in tow, and Cullen had been caught up in getting them settled, which meant he was later to meet Neoma than he intended. 

His eyes searched for her as he shut the door behind him, spotting her sitting in a corner with Varric, the two of them with their heads together like conspirators, although he wasn’t sure if it was an actual conspiracy or merely to be able to hear each other over the noise. 

He took a step towards them when another sat down at their table, and he saw Neoma’s eyebrows rise in surprise. The Herald nodded at them both, smiling briefly, which caused Cullen’s eyebrows to rise as well. He was surprised. Marcus had only just arrived back in Haven and he usually spent the day of his return holed up in his tent. 

Nevertheless Cullen made his way through the press of bodies towards their table. Neoma was speaking to the Herald as he approached and he caught the tail end of the conversation. 

“...ally with or conscript the templars?” she was asking. 

Marcus studied her for a second, taking a sip of his wine - Cullen noticed he rarely drank ale - before responding. “I allied with them as you suggested.” 

Neoma smiled. Neoma approves she thought to herself. Would she ever get over that? “Thank you Marcus,” she said sincerely. “It will make a big difference to morale in the long run.” 

Marcus hesitated, then smiled and nodded, but said nothing else. He was making an effort to be nicer to people after they’d argued, but he still felt awkward around her. His eyes darted up behind Neoma towards Cullen as he approached the table and she turned to see what he was looking at, her face lighting up as she saw him. 

“Commander Cullen,” she grinned. “Nice of you to join us,” she teased.

“I had to get the templars settled,” he said apologetically. “Sorry I’m late.” He nodded at Marcus. “Herald.”

“Commander.” 

“Wow, don’t try and be nice to each other or anything,” Neoma said, rolling her eyes. Varric snorted into his ale and Marcus and Cullen both reddened in embarrassment. 

“Uh, it’s not that… I mean…” Marcus mumbled into his glass. 

Neoma laughed, a happy sound that immediately made everyone around her relax. 

“Chill guys. You really just need to try to get along. You don’t have to be friends, you just have to be civil.” 

The table looked at each other in confusion. “Chill?” Varric asked. 

She sighed. “Nevermind. It means like… relax…” 

Cullen seated himself next to Neoma and signaled to Flissa for an ale. He turned back to the table. “You’re right. Apologies Herald. Marcus,” he corrected himself. “My upbringing also tends to make me a bit more formal, where perhaps I don’t always need to be.” 

Marcus nodded but said nothing. There was an uncomfortable silence. 

“This is the part where you say, ‘yes, me too,’ or something along those lines,” Neoma prompted him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Sorry. Me too,” mumbled Marcus to which Neoma rolled her eyes but grinned. 

“Well it’s a start,” she said patting his arm. 

Marcus flushed and Varric smirked, a sudden suspicion tickling him, but he said nothing. 

“Templars all settled?” she said turning to Cullen.

Flissa appeared at his elbow, placing a tankard of ale in front of him. He nodded in thanks, taking a sip and then turned his attention back to Neoma. “Yes, although I suspect there might be some tension within the camp. We have quite a few mages here that are no longer… associated… with any Circles,” he said, “and I suspect we might need to remind the templars that they are allies and cannot attempt to subdue any… apostates.” He shrugged. “But we’ll get there.” 

Neoma smiled at him, squeezing his arm briefly before removing her hand. “You’ll manage,” she said confidently. “And everyone will realise soon enough that working together is the only way to succeed.” 

“Doesn’t it tire you Rebel?” Varric asked suddenly. “Knowing all of this... “ 

She looked at Varric, a frown on her face. “What do you mean Varric?” she asked.

“Well, knowing what’s going to happen? Isn’t it exhausting keeping track of it all?”

“Oh… well, sometimes,” she replied. “But it’s been so long since I arrived in Thedas, that to be honest, sometimes I only remember what’s going to happen as it’s happening. Which isn’t always useful, but I just try my best, I suppose,” she said. She looked sad for a moment. “It was nice for a few years not really knowing what was going to happen. When I was just travelling with Hawke and Fenris, you know?” She shook her head. “But I think I can do some good this way, or try to at least.” 

Varric nodded in agreement. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry, didn’t mean for that to be a downer…”

“How much have you had to drink before I arrived?” Cullen asked her. 

“Oh, I dunno. About three glasses of wine or thereabouts,” she replied. “Why?” 

“I notice you slip into your home colloquialisms when you’ve been drinking,” he said, smiling wryly. 

She laughed. “Do you like it when I talk colloquial Commander?” she grinned, waggling her eyebrows at him. 

Cullen blushed bright red as Varric and Marcus both exploded into laughter. The fact that even Marcus had relaxed and was laughing was not lost on any of them as Neoma pulled Cullen’s cheek towards her, kissing it, and causing him to turn an even brighter shade of red. 

“Um… well, what I meant was… Maker…” he mumbled. 

“I’m teasing you Cullen,” she laughed. “You’re right of course. I see it with Rylen as well. The drunker he is, the more Scottish he sounds.”

“Scottish?” Marcus asked frowning. 

“Oh, um… Starkhaven... ish. Whatever. At home his accent would be called Scottish. Like Cullen’s is British. Varric’s is American, same as yours,” she said nodding at Marcus. 

“And yours?” Marcus asked curiously. 

“Oh. Um, well I pick up accents quite easily to be honest, I always have, so mine has always been a bit of a mish-mash of everywhere. I moved around a lot as a kid, but I guess it’s kind of more British or Fereldan, whatever, than yours. I spent a lot of time in the Free Marches in Kirkwall though, so I’ve picked up the twang that comes along with that.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t make a difference now, my accent is so all over the place that I guess it would be called ‘neutral’. I often have people ask me where I’m from because they can’t quite place it,” she said. 

The conversation turned towards Kirkwall and Hawke, and the first time Neoma had met Marcus. He smiled at the memory of how flustered she’d been when meeting him. The only person who hadn’t been at the ball was Varric and he listened with interest, noting everything down mentally for inclusion in a story somewhere. 

“If I remember correctly, a certain Knight-Captain rescued you from further questioning,” Marcus said, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. 

“Rescued me?” Neoma replied, looking scandalised although she was grinning. “I hardly needed rescuing, although it was becoming increasingly difficult to fend off your questions if I remember correctly. You were very persistent.”

“I enjoy the challenge of a mystery,” he replied. “You were a mystery. Still are to some extent if I’m honest.”

Neoma reddened. “Yes well… I hope now at least you understand why I was so vague about everything.”

He nodded. “I can’t say I can imagine you ever requiring rescuing,” he said, to which Varric snorted and choked on his ale. “What did I say?” said Marcus looking confused. 

Neoma cleared her throat and looked embarrassed. She sighed. “Ug. You might as well tell him Varric. You’re going to put it in a book at some point I’m sure.” She glanced at Cullen who didn’t know ]the full story either.

Marcus and Cullen frowned in confusion. Varric grinned. “Well the first time I met Rebel here, she was in a cage in a cave full of dead Tevinter slavers. To be fair, the slavers were dead because we’d killed them, but we were looting the bodies and Broody broke the lock of the cage to get her out. Picked her up and carried her all the way back to Darktown so Blondie could heal her.” He chuckled. “Turns out she’d been captured about an hour after arriving in Thedas because she walked up to a campfire of men she didn’t know and asked for directions. It’s funny in retrospect, but she’s damn lucky we came along when we did.”

Marcus turned to look at her. “Is that true?” he asked, frowning. “You were a slave?” Cullen remembered her telling him this in Kirkwall, but she’d never spoken of the particulars.

She reddened and shrugged. “Yeah well it wasn’t a very bright thing to do even on my world, but it was raining and I was cold and wet. I didn’t even realise I was in Thedas at the time, I thought I was still on Earth. And I hadn’t been sold so while yes, I was a slave, it was more that I had been captured to be sold into slavery if that makes sense?”

She cleared her throat. “Aaaaaanyway, after that delightful story, I think I’m going to love you and leave you,” she said, getting to her feet. “Another Neoma slash Earth-ism you can add to your notebook Varric,” she winked at him. 

“I’ll walk with you,” Cullen said, also getting up. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her as he’d hoped although the evening had been pleasant enough.

Marcus tried not to frown at her leaving with the Commander, but Varric noticed the expression flit across his face. ‘Curious,’ he thought to himself, but said nothing. 

Neoma and Cullen said their goodbyes. The blast of cold air as they let themselves out made her shiver and she pulled her coat a bit tighter. Luckily it wasn’t too far to her tent. She and Cullen didn’t speak, but the silence was comfortable, as he walked with her. 

“Well. Night,” she said, turning to him as they arrived, a shy smile on her lips. 

“Night,” he said, making a conscious effort to not rub the back of his neck. 

Neither of them moved. 

“So… do you want to come in?” she asked softly, her heart beating hard. 

Cullen didn’t speak for a moment and Neoma felt her cheeks burn. “I mean, if you want to. Or not, if you have to be up early or something…” she trailed off as he took her hand.

“Neoma, I would like that very much,” he smiled.


	18. Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People watching and conversations are the gist of most of this chapter :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes - Sorry, I poured most of my smut energy this time around into my other Dragon Age fic, Unwritten, and I had kind of stalled here so I decided just to allude to goings-on for the most part so I could get back into the story! Luckily, considering there’s not a huge amount of smut generally, I’m pretty sure you’re not here just for that. :) Also, sorry for the delay in getting back to this - there's been a lot going on lately and I just couldn't find the time.

Cullen moved inside her, eyes closed, the feel of her around him was bliss, something he’d longed for since the day he’d met her. He opened his eyes and looked down, saw her staring back up at him with a smirk on her lips. “Is this what you want Templar?” she said and he faltered, his rhythm broken. Dirty talk wasn’t what he had expected from Neoma and it confused him. She pulled his head down towards her and kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth. She was warm and smelled of something… unfamiliar. His mind wandered as he tried to place the scent. 

Opening his eyes he saw her green eyes flash with… something. Green? He thought. I could swear her eyes were blue, but when he looked again they were definitely blue. He must have imagined it. 

“Stay with me Cullen…” she murmured as he continued to thrust inside her. “Say you’ll stay with me…” 

There was something in her voice that made him pull back again. “What did you say?” he asked, frowning. 

Neoma’s lips curled into a smile. Not the warm and gentle smile that usually made her face light up, but something almost cruel. “Stay with me Templar,” she repeated, but her voice had changed. It was deeper, more menacing. Her eyes flickered yet again, flashing green and Cullen realised with a start that this was not Neoma at all. It was a Desire Demon. 

He pushed her away from him, flinging himself backwards and glancing around for his sword. “Get away from me demon!” he shouted. 

“That’s not what you were saying when you were inside me,” it purred. 

Cullen grimaced but stood his ground. “I said, get away,” he repeated. 

“Cullen…” it said, drifting towards him. 

He took a step back, towards the door. 

“Cullen…” it said again, green eyes flashing. 

“No,” he croaked, his throat dry. 

The demon reached out to him and he realised his back was against the wall. He had nowhere else to go. 

“Cullen…” it said, it’s voice changing back to Neoma’s. The world began to spin and Cullen felt himself falling. 

“Cullen!”

He started awake to find Neoma shaking him. Irrationally he pushed her away from him as he remembered the demon’s face turning into hers. 

Neoma, still naked, landed on the floor with a thump, as Cullen jumped up and looked around him. 

“Cullen,” she said soothingly, getting to her feet and holding out her hands to him. “It’s ok. You were having a nightmare.” 

He realised he was breathing very heavily, cold sweat running down his back. He looked around, trying to recall where he was and how he got there. And how he was naked, as he glanced down and realised this fact. 

The events of last night started to return. The tavern. Neoma inviting him into her tent. 

“Maker,” he groaned as he sat back down on the cot, his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He felt her weight as she sat beside him. She patted his back gently. 

“I’m fine. Are you alright?” 

He sighed. “I have… struggled… with nightmares for many years. Since…” he broke off. 

“Since Kinloch Hold,” she finished, her voice soft. 

He nodded, huffing a soft, slightly bitter laugh. “Of course you know. You know everything.”

“Oh Cullen… that’s not true,” she said. “I know it seems like a know many things, but there is also a great deal I can’t predict.” She hesitated. “This for one.” 

He looked up at her. “This is not in your story?” he asked. 

She grimaced. “Well… kind of. It is, but only with a female Herald. And it doesn’t unfold like this.” She considered briefly. “Please take this as it’s intended, I’m not trying to bring up the past, but Fenris once told me when I was worrying about changing events, that it didn’t matter what I thought I knew about his potential relationship with Hawke, because I knew nothing about his relationship with me. The same applies here. I’m not the Herald. I’m just me. And we’re just us, figuring it out as we go, just like everyone else.” 

She shrugged. “I may know more about some things, but this is uncharted territory for me as well.” 

“I dreamt… that you were a demon. We were…” he blushed. “Well, you know…” and she smiled at his embarrassment but nodded for him to continue. “And she… it... kept saying things that seemed so out of character for you. I was confused. Then it... started asking me to stay. And your eyes were green, and I knew that they weren’t green, they were blue, but the voice was yours…”

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memory. Neoma moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, holding him to her and resting her head on his back. He leaned into her and they sat quietly together for a few moments. Cullen became aware of her breasts pressing against him and he felt his body begin to respond. 

Gently he disentangled himself and reached for his clothes. He would have liked to have spent more time there with her, but his head wasn’t in the right space right now. “I should go,” he said, pulling his smallclothes and breeches on. He glanced at her. She had pulled some blankets around her against the cold, but otherwise stayed seated on the cot. He hesitated. “I don’t want to…” he clarified, hoping she would understand. He didn’t want her to think he was leaving her as Fenris did.

Neoma smiled at him. “I know,” she said. “You just need to clear your head.” She shrugged. “It’s fine. We have time.”

Cullen pulled his shirt on and sat back down, reaching for her hands as he did so. “I hope so Neoma, I really do.” He kissed the back of her hand, his lips grazing her knuckles. “Thank you for understanding.” 

She blushed a little and smiled. “Of course Cullen.” 

She reached for her own clothes as he finished dressing, tracking down the garments that had been discarded earlier, and pulling on things she could sleep in. She looked up to find him fully dressed once again, pulling his fur mantle around his shoulders. Neoma stood up. 

“Well… night I guess,” she said. 

Cullen stepped forward and pulled her towards him, pressing his lips to hers softly. Breaking away he touched his forehead to hers. “Night,” he said softly. He squeezed her arms gently and then stepped back, ducking through the opening to her tent.   
_______________________

Varric liked to people watch - it was where he got the best ideas for his novels. He was in the fortunate position of being known for scribbling in his notebook at odd times, and so it was that he often took advantage of this and watched the interactions of people when they weren’t looking. 

One of his favourite people in the Inquisition camp, Neoma, ambled past him, clearly lost in thought, and he watched as she made her way towards Cassandra. For what reason he had no idea, but he was more interested in what people’s body language said about their conversations more so than their actual words. 

As she walked to the Seeker, he kept an eye on the other eyes that watched her, more of which than he was sure she realised. The Commander of course, always watched her out of the corner of his eye, oftentimes with a small smile on his face. Varric was aware they were involved, although neither of them had announced it - Curly for the most part liked his privacy so wasn’t prone to spreading it around, but Varric was happy for both of them. 

Sera, the strange elf they’d picked up in Val Royeaux, watched her curiously as well, but you never could tell what was going through Sera’s mind from moment to moment. It might seem logical to her, but to everyone else it just left them feeling confused. Varric wasn’t quite sure what to make of the elf who appeared to despise ‘elfy-elves’ such as Solas, but he filed her interest in Neoma away to ponder later. 

A couple of the templars, newly joined from Therinfal, watched her, although Varric was trying to decide if they found her attractive or were just curious as to who she was, or her rumoured relationship with the Commander of the Inquisition. It could have been any or all of those things, so he kept his ears open where he could.

Lastly, the one he found the most curious, was the Herald. To outward appearances, Marcus Trevelyan had always seemed as if he disliked Neoma. Then they had an argument and now for the most part were fairly civil to each other. It was for exactly this reason that Varric wondered why he watched her as much as he did. Personally he suspected Marcus harboured a crush on Neoma and was jealous of Cullen, but he had no way to prove it. Perhaps it was his awkwardness when he was around her, but Varric was trying to find out how to broach the subject, and until such time he did what he did best - watch, make notes, and write stories. 

________________________

Cullen was supervising drills when he saw the Herald making his way over to him. Marcus had become more civil with everyone, something the Commander suspected was because of Neoma’s talk with him a few weeks earlier. He wouldn’t call their relationship friendly, but they could now have a conversation without snapping at each other and it was bearable if not enjoyable. 

“Commander Cullen,” said Marcus Trevelyan as he stopped next to his general.

Cullen glanced over at him, signalling to Knight-Captain Rylen to take over, then turned towards the Marcus. “Herald,” he replied. “What can I do for you?” 

“I wanted to get your opinion on the Breach Commander, and when you think the Templars will be ready to assist in closing it.”

Cullen looked at him in surprise. This would usually be something that would wait until their War Council meetings when everyone was assembled. 

“Of course Herald,” he responded politely. “Would you like my opinion now or would you like to discuss this in the War Room?’ 

“Now is fine,” Marcus said abruptly. “I’d like to get everyone’s unbiased opinion and then we can discuss it further in our meeting.” 

Cullen nodded. “Alright. Well, I would like them to have a bit more practice working together as I think that will be key when you try to close the Breach, but if you were forced to close it tomorrow, I think you would find them up to the task,” he replied. 

Marcus nodded. “And Neoma?” he asked suddenly, catching Cullen a little off guard. 

“What about her?” Cullen asked cautiously. He hadn’t spoken of their relationship to anyone, although he was fairly sure a number of people knew. If he was honest, he wasn’t really sure where he stood with her so he didn’t push it, waiting instead to see how things developed. 

“What do you think her role is in all of this?” Marcus pushed. “Her information has been good, but I’m not entirely certain…” he hesitated. He didn’t like to reveal uncertainty to his advisors. He had just done so unwittingly and there was no way he could back down now. “I’m not entirely certain she should be there when we close the Breach,” he finished lamely. 

“Have you spoken to Neoma about this?” Cullen asked him curiously. “I can’t say she’s ever indicated to me that she wanted to be there, although it’s not something we’ve discussed in detail.”

Marcus reddened a bit. Strange, thought Cullen. He gets very flustered whenever she’s mentioned. He wondered, not for the first time, what his problem with her was. “Yes, I suppose that would be best,” Marcus nodded. He knew the conversation was unsatisfactory and regretted bringing her up. In fact he hadn’t meant to, it had just burst out of him and he wasn’t sure how to backtrack. 

Cullen, unsure how to respond, just nodded. 

“Well I’ll leave you to your work,” the Herald said. 

Cullen bade him goodbye, feeling relieved the conversation was over. He looked around, spotting Neoma talking to Cassandra not far away. He watched her for a bit, a small smile on his lips until a soldier approached. “Commander! Ser Rylen has a report on our supply lines!”

Commander Cullen sighed and held out his hand for the report. The work never ended.


	19. Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus attempts to close the Breach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaarrggh! Sorry for the long break! I was crazy busy at work and then lazy once it hit the holidays. I've been focussing on Unwritten for a while, but I'm trying not to neglect this one either. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Cullen stood outside the Chantry staring up at the Breach. They were going to attempt to close it today, and he couldn’t rid himself of the anxiety in the pit of his stomach. It was early still and there weren’t many people up and about just yet. 

On Neoma’s advice and after Solas revealed the location of a fortress in the mountains called Skyhold, they had begun subtly evacuating the population of Haven. They didn’t want to draw attention to themselves in case Corypheus’s forces were watching, so they snuck them out in small groups all led by Leliana’s scouts. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” a voice said behind him. He knew immediately by the strangeness of the saying that it was Neoma. He didn’t even know what a penny was. He turned to face her, his scarred lip quirking up in a smile for the woman who made him feel things he’d never felt for anyone before. 

“What’s a penny?” he replied and she rolled her eyes. 

“It’s like… the lowest form of currency. A bronze piece?” She shrugged. “It’s a bit random I guess. Saying I’ll pay you a small amount of money for your thoughts like they’re not worth much, but it comes from a country at home called Britain and…” she glanced at him to see an amused expression on his face. She blushed and grinned self-consciously. “Sorry. You don’t need a lecture…”

“No, but if you have one prepared I’d love to hear it,” he joked, echoing something she’d once said to him. He’d never understood at the time why she found that so funny, but she burst out laughing and he was glad he’d remembered the comment. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked him. 

“Mmm, anxious,” he replied. “But less because of the Breach, mainly because you’ve assured us of success to some degree, but because of what you’ve said comes after. We’re changing what you know by evacuating the population, which means the outcome is less certain. It makes me anxious.” 

Neoma frowned. “Yes. Me too. But it’s the right thing to do. I’m going to try and speak to Marcus if he’ll stop avoiding me,” she added. 

Cullen nodded absently. “Did he speak to you about travelling with everyone to close the Breach?” he asked. 

“He did. I said I wasn’t interested in going unless he wanted me to,” she said. “I don’t think my presence is needed and to be honest I don’t think he wanted me there.” She shrugged. “It’s fine, I’d rather be here to prepare for Corypheus. I’m confident you’ll succeed at the Temple.” 

Cullen nodded absently, his mind on the task ahead of them. Neoma was about to bid him goodbye and go in search of food when she felt his hand in hers. She looked up into amber eyes; she’d forgotten they were such a beautiful colour; he was usually so reserved in public and this surprised her. She huffed a soft laugh. “This is unlike you Commander.” 

“Yes well, sometimes impending battles make you aware of the things you value most,” he replied softly. 

“Value most?” she asked curiously.

Cullen reddened a little but didn’t backtrack. “Yes,” he said. “The thing I’m most anxious about is what will happen to you. I know I should be thinking about the Herald, but…”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’ll be fine. You just concentrate on closing the Breach.” 

He frowned but nodded, watching her walk away as she bid him goodbye. 

“Commander,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see one of the scouts hovering anxiously. 

“Are we ready to move?” he asked. 

“We are Ser. We’re just waiting on the Herald.”

Cullen nodded curtly. “Go find him. I’ll tell the others we’re ready.” 

The scout hurried off and Cullen sighed heavily. He felt a sense of weariness settle on his shoulders. He’d feel a great deal happier when this battle was behind them and he could think and plan more comprehensively. 

___________________

Neoma walked away from Cullen, a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew he wasn’t always comfortable showing his feelings although this Cullen was certainly more confident than in any of the games she’d played which made a nice change. 

A small smile on her lips and still contemplating his words about the things that mattered most, she went in search of Marcus Trevelyan. She found him in the War Room, poring over the maps. It reminded her a bit of Cullen and she smiled to herself - they were more alike than either of them cared to admit. 

Neoma tapped lightly on the door and Marcus looked up. She wondered at the brief myriad of expressions that flashed across his face at her presence before finally settling on a frown. “Neoma,” he said. “What can I do for you?” 

She cocked her head. It was more polite than she’d anticipated. “Marcus. I’d like to talk to you about what happens after you close the Breach.” 

He nodded. He’d been expecting her, even though he’d said he didn’t want her accompanying them, he hadn’t really expected her to agree to it. When she did he knew a follow up conversation was coming. “Close the door.” 

She pushed it closed and moved closer to where he leant over the table. She’d been expecting a little more aggression from him to be honest. He’d been less openly hostile in general since she’d shouted at him, but the Herald was still not an easy man to get along with.

“I know my insisting on evacuating Haven might have changed a couple of things…” she began. Marcus said nothing but merely looked at her. 

“Marcus, I…” she faltered. She had run this conversation through her head a thousand times over the last few days but now that he was no longer avoiding her she didn’t know what to say. 

“Am I going to die?” he asked simply. 

“What? No!” she said startled. “Although you’ll face a hard fight ahead. Corypheus will bring a dragon,” she said urgently. 

It was Marcus’s turn to look startled and he paled. “A dragon!” Neoma outlined the key points of the battle at Haven, and he listened attentively, asking questions where necessary and taking mental notes. He chastised himself for avoiding her these past weeks. She’d clearly been trying to tell him what to expect and instead he’d avoided her in the hopes of overcoming his feelings. 

“I also wanted to say… thank you. For listening to me. I know we got off on the wrong foot and I didn’t expect you to agree to the evacuation. I know I shouldn’t have interfered I just couldn’t watch all those people die and…” she was babbling now but a sense of panic was settling in her chest. What if she was wrong? What if evacuating had been the wrong choice and the enemy knew where they were going? 

A hand on her arm stopped her and she looked up to see Marcus’s face creased in a frown of concern. “There’s nothing more you could have done Neoma,” he said softly. “We’re all just trying our best.” 

He moved back and sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You’ve given us some additional information on what to expect, but things shift and change. You just need to accept that.” He looked her in the eyes. “I won’t blame you if things don’t go according to plan.” 

Neoma took an involuntary step back. “You… won’t?” she asked, frowning. That wasn’t what she’d expected. 

He smiled wryly. “Have I really given you such a bad impression of myself?” He frowned and looked down. “I suppose I have,” he said softly. He thought back to the time he’d first met her and how curious he’d been about this strange woman. How he wished he could go back and change… so many things that had happened since then. 

He shook himself. “Do you have any advice to offer?” he asked. “Either now as we close the Breach or afterwards when we return?” 

Neoma looked at him sadly and shook her head. “I think you’ll make the right decisions.” Spontaneously she stepped forward and hugged him. It was impulsive. She’d spent so many hours in her own world absorbed in this game and while Marcus wasn’t really what she had expected, she still felt a connection to all the people she’d met. No longer just characters in a story, but complex, living people who all faced their own struggles. 

She felt him stiffen in her arms and she almost pulled back when she felt his arms go around her and return the hug. She gave him one last brief squeeze and then stepped back. “You’re a strong leader Marcus. You need to stop doubting yourself.” 

He nodded and swallowed hard, resisting the urge to pull her back towards him and make that moment last. 

He opened his mouth to speak but the words died on his tongue as the door to the War Room opened. They both turned to see a scout standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Apologies Herald. Sir. I didn’t realise you had company.” 

Neoma smiled at him. “Don’t worry, we were just finishing.” She nodded at the Herald, whose face had slipped back into its stoic expression. “Marcus. Remember what I said,” she said as she turned to leave. 

He nodded, then redirected his gaze to the scout. “Yes?”

“Uh, Herald. The Commander said to tell you we’re ready to move out whenever you are. Sir,” he added. 

Marcus Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste, took a deep breath. “Well. Let’s go close that Breach shall we?”

He strode out of the room, the scout hurrying behind him. 

_______________

Neoma waited anxiously for them to return. Pacing, she kept darting glances at the sky. Should it be taking this long? The Breach remained, the column of green smoke swirling menacingly. 

Unlike the game where you selected only three companions, Marcus had taken everyone with him and so Neoma remained at Haven with only the common folk who hadn’t yet evacuated and a handful of guards who were directed to stay behind for protection. She chafed at the inactivity and was beginning to regret not asking to join them. 

As she was contemplating sneaking out and following them, what sounded like a thunderclap and a gust of wind swept over the camp, nearly knocking her off her feet. By the time she looked up again at the sky it was clear, green wisps dissipating in the breeze. 

A cheer went up from the camp and Neoma felt her face break into a grin. She resisted the urge to whoop, but muttered under her breath, “Fuck me. He did it.” 

An hour or so later the group appeared in the distance and Neoma hovered by the gates of Haven anxiously. As they got closer she could contain herself no longer and jumped down from the wall she’d been sitting on, sprinting towards the group of companions, or the Inner Circle as she still thought of them. She spotted Cullen ahead of his troops and although she wanted to run to him first she decided against it. The Herald needed to have the first acknowledgment. 

She raced up to them, noticing Varric’s grin at her enthusiasm. “You fucking did it!” she yelled, throwing her arms around Marcus. 

The Herald was a bit taken aback, but her enthusiasm was infectious and he couldn’t resist grinning along with her. She grabbed Varric and pulled him into the hug, the group of them laughing, until people around them were grinning just as widely. 

Breaking away she looked around, and spotting Cullen, jogged over to him. He’d seen her hug Marcus and had clamped down on the stir of jealousy in his chest that she didn’t come to him first. It wouldn’t have made sense, he told himself. She needed to congratulate the Herald first, it would have looked strange otherwise. Just, perhaps not quite so enthusiastically a small, quiet voice whispered. He pushed it away and waited patiently, knowing she’d come find him. 

Approaching Cullen, a smile tugged at her lips, becoming wider as she got closer. Impulsively, and to his surprise, she reached up on tip toes and planted a kiss directly on his lips, earning a chuckle from many of the closest soldiers. He went bright red as she pulled away and she kept waiting for the telltale neck rub. Instead he seemed to shrug off his embarrassment and pulled her to him, kissing her more forcefully in front of everyone. 

A cheer went up from many of the soldiers in addition to some catcalls and Cullen pulled back, grinning, albeit still a little red. Neoma, now on the back foot, also went red, but grinned good naturedly as the Commander called over his shoulder, “All right, that’s enough. We’re almost back at camp.” 

They walked together in comfortable silence as they approached Haven, some curious eyes watching them, Varric’s included as he made notes in his journal.

“Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine,” said Marcus as they reached Haven, “can we please convene in the War Room?” He hesitated. “Neoma, would you join us?” he asked politely. She inclined her head, and the group broke away and headed towards the Chantry. 

As they assembled, Marcus began outlining his plan. It needed to appear as if the town was unguarded and people were celebrating. The Elder One might be suspicious otherwise, and on Neoma’s advice they still needed to wait for a mage named Dorian who would arrive ahead of the mage army.

As they had already begun evacuating Haven, the majority of the people there were soldiers. In addition they would not be caught off guard, but Neoma reiterated that the Elder One should not be underestimated. 

“These mages are being controlled by the Venatori Marcus,” she said. “They’re an officially unsanctioned extremist arm of the Tevinter Imperium, but they’re set on helping the Elder One gain control of Thedas.” He nodded grimly in understanding. 

After some discussion, the Herald outlined their plan. Merriment would continue as if they had won the battle, with music playing, fires going, the gates to Haven open. No alcohol would be distributed and all soldiers would keep their weapons close at hand. 

Marcus informed everyone of what Neoma had told him before they closed the Breach and there were some shocked expressions when he mentioned a dragon. 

“Maker,” Cullen murmured, his jaw clenching and Neoma shot him a small smile although she too looked anxious. 

“Neoma, do you have anything else to add?” the Herald said. 

She looked around the table. “Thank you for trusting me,” she said. “I know it must have seemed unbelievable to many of you.” 

The meeting broke up and Neoma lingered behind to speak to Marcus, nodding to Cullen as he hesitated at the door. “I’ll find you,” she mouthed to him. 

“I’m staying with you,” she said to Marcus immediately as the door closed.

“What? No, out of the question,” he said shaking his head. 

“Marcus,” she began, but he held up his hand to cut her off. 

“Neoma, if what you say is true, I need you to be on the look out for me when I’m in the mountains.”

“No, Marcus, they’ll find you…” She started to argue with him.

“Neoma, the answer is no.” 

She scowled at him and he sighed, his face softening. 

“Neoma, I can’t risk anything happening to you,” he said. “Apart from the fact that there’s no guarantee you would survive the encounter with Corypheus if he’s as ruthless as you say he is, Cullen would have my head if I agreed to it.”

There was a tense moment where he thought she would defy him, but a moment later she sagged slightly, knowing this wasn’t an argument she would win. 

“Fine,” she muttered and turned to go. She stopped in the doorway and threw a look at him over her shoulder. “Marcus? Come back ok?” 

She left before he could see the tears glistening in her eyes.


	20. Amazing Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle for Haven. Based on the quest In Your Heart Shall Burn with some modifications to accommodate my own storyline.

“Forces approaching! To arms!”

Neoma heart jumped into her chest when she heard Cullen’s voice ring out across the camp and her eyes searched the mountains for the telltale signs of Corypheus’s mages. 

“Fuck,” she muttered as she ran towards the gates on the heels of the Herald and his companions. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Cullen was speaking with Cassandra as she approached. “One watchguard reporting. It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.” 

Neoma knew the next lines wouldn’t materialise. They all knew there would be no banner. Because of her they knew who they were facing. 

A crack and a flash of light and she turned towards the gates expectantly. “Dorian,” she said breathlessly. 

“If someone could open this, I’d appreciate it,” a cultured voice sounded from outside. 

“It’s Dorian, let him in!” she said excitedly. 

Marcus and Cullen were already running towards the gates, flinging them open to reveal the Tevinter mage she’d always wanted to meet. 

“I’m here to warn you, fashionably late I’m afraid,” he quipped, but clearly exhausted as he stumbled into Cullen who caught him as he fell. 

“Mite exhausted, don’t mind me,” he murmured. He looked at Marcus. “I came to tell you what happened with the mages at Redcliffe. You’re not going to like it.”

“We know already Dorian,” Marcus said. “Come inside, I’ll explain everything when I can, but we’ve been expecting you.” 

The look of surprise on Dorian’s face would have been funny to Neoma if they weren’t all conscious of the approaching forces. 

“You’re wasting time!” she called to them. “Quickly, get back inside!”

They hurried back inside the gates, Cullen rallying the troops once more, even though they were as prepared as they could be, and suddenly the Venatori were there and the battle was joined. 

As she hacked and slashed with her daggers, dodging and tumbling as they fought to keep the Venatori off the Northern trebuchet, she kept an eye on the Herald. A warrior by nature, he wielded a sword and shield as if they were extensions of his body, and Venatori fell before him in droves. 

A pause in the battle and they all ran towards the Southern trebuchet, which wasn’t firing. The ache in her muscles grounded her in reality, but Neoma felt as if she was watching everything happen from outside of her body. She knew each step of what was going to happen next. 

They dispatched the Venatori and Marcus fired the trebuchet into the mountain, burying the mages in snow. A cheer went up from the Inquisition forces, and then…

“The dragon,” Marcus murmured as a fireball hit the village. 

“Back to the gates, Marcus, now!” yelled Neoma as the Herald stood looking at the dragon in wonder. “We don’t have time!”

Her voice shook him from his daze and they all stumbled back towards the gates.

“Pull back!” Neoma heard Cullen’s voice ahead of her. 

“Move it! Move it!” he yelled at the soldiers as they stumbled towards him. The look of relief on his face when he saw her and the Herald was obvious. 

“We need everyone back to the Chantry!” he said as the gates slammed shut. 

They dodged fireballs and cut down any Venatori in their way as they raced to the Chantry. Thanks to Neoma’s information, there were no villagers to rescue, all of them safely on their way to Skyhold already, along with Josephine and Leliana who would prepare for them. 

As they entered the Chantry, Neoma saw Dorian supporting Roderick and reeled back in shock. 

“Chancellor Roderick!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? You were meant to evacuate!”

“He refused to leave with the rest,” Marcus said from beside her. “After he showed us the path, we all tried to get him to leave but he insisted on staying behind with us.”

Neoma’s eyes welled up. “No one was supposed to…” she said. “I thought I’d stopped that…”

“Neoma,” Cullen’s deep voice sounded behind her. “There’s nothing more you could have done…” 

She nodded and wiped her eyes. She knew Roderick’s fate, one she had hoped to avoid no matter how difficult the man might be. 

“Cullen,” Marcus said, turning to the Commander. “We’re overrun. It’s time. We have to bury Haven.” 

“Well that’s not acceptable,” Dorian interjected. “I didn’t race here only to have you drop rocks on my head!” 

“Dorian,” Neoma said turning to him. “Don’t worry, we’re not giving up. We have a plan.” 

“You do? Care to share this with me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Marcus, Cullen and Neoma exchanged looks. “We don’t really have time,” the Herald said. “But Cullen knows what to do. He and Neoma will guide you out of here and I’ll see you again… soon,” he finished. 

The Herald turned to go, signalling to Varric, Vivienne and Cassandra. Neoma started after him. “Marcus…” she said urgently. 

He stopped abruptly and rounded on her. “No, Neoma, what did I tell you?” he said, his voice coming out harsher than he’d intended. 

She looked at him, momentarily hurt and he regretted the tone in his voice almost immediately. “I won’t go back on my word,” she said softly. “I just wanted to say, be careful. I’ll be watching for you in the mountains.” 

Unexpectedly, Marcus reached out and touched his hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. Neoma’s eyes widened slightly. Suddenly she knew with certainty why he had acted as he had towards her all these weeks and heat rushed into her face. 

He dropped his hand and looked at her for a moment longer, then turned and with his companions behind him, he was gone. 

The doors to the Chantry thudded shut. 

______________

Marcus fell. 

As the avalanche descended on Haven and Corypheus and his dragon took flight, Marcus tumbled through the darkness, pain blossoming each time his body slammed into something else on the way down. 

Eventually he opened his eyes to find himself underground, his body in agony. Gingerly he tried to get up and gasped at the pain in his muscles. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet and tested his limbs slowly. He was pretty certain he’d probably cracked a rib or two and the bruises he’d sustained from the fall were painful, but he didn’t appear to have broken anything vital. 

Slowly, pain made worse by the cold, he staggered through the caverns. 

______________

Neoma sat huddled in blankets against the cold. She was perched on a rock a short way from where they were camped, searching the horizon for the Herald. 

While the scouts were guiding the people of Haven towards Skyhold, the soldiers that had stayed behind were camped, waiting for the Herald to arrive. Many were sceptical that he had survived, but Neoma knew he was alright. She had promised him she’d keep a look out and so she sat. Perched on a rock. In the cold. 

The crunch of snow behind her warned of someone approaching, and the clank of armour told her who it was. 

“Hello Cullen,” she said without turning around. 

He hesitated, but didn’t ask how she knew it was him. “Neoma,” he replied. “Aren’t you cold?”

She chuckled. “I’m fucking cold,” she said. “Which is why I’ve dragged half my bedding up here with me. But I promised the Herald I would look for him, so here I am.” 

“We have scouting parties out searching for him,” Cullen replied, his forehead creasing as he frowned. 

“I know. But I promised,” she said, still not turning around.

He didn’t argue, but came and sat down next to her. 

“How is Roderick?” she asked. The Chancellor had been carried into camp but it was clear he was fading fast. She knew it was unlikely he would survive. 

“Not good,” he replied. “Dorian is with him, but I don’t think it will be much longer.” 

She glanced at the Commander, his handsome profile, creased by a frown, but illuminated by the light bouncing off the snow all around them. She reached out and took his hand. His lips quirked into a smile, and he disentangled his fingers and removed both his glove and hers, so their hands could touch. 

They fell into a comfortable silence as they sat and looked out over the snow-covered mountains.

Cullen sighed and Neoma said nothing, but squeezed his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. 

She wished for some sunglasses. It was too bright.

_______________

Marcus could hear howling. Whether the wind or wolves he was uncertain, but he also knew he couldn’t go on much longer. 

He began to wonder if Neoma had been mistaken. She’d been so confident that he would survive, that they would defeat Corypheus, but he was so cold. And so many parts of his body ached, his hand with, what did Corypheus call it? The Anchor. The Anchor burned. 

He stumbled onwards. He thought he could see a glow ahead of him but then he blinked and it seemed to flicker. Still, imaginary or not, it was something to focus on in the swirling snow, and so he trudged onwards, one foot in front of the other. 

At some point the glow grew brighter and something inside him urged him to hurry. He wondered why he didn’t seem to be moving forward, when he realised he was lying in the snow. Maybe if he just rested here for a second he’d get the energy to get up again.

“Marcus, no, Marcus, wake up!” a voice said urgently. It sounded very far away and he tried to open his eyes to see who was talking. A hand started patting his cheek and he wanted to tell them to stop, but he couldn’t get the words out. “Marcus, come on, stay with me, wake up. Cullen! I need help!” It wailed, but he was too tired to respond. He heard other voices around him, some shouting and he wanted to tell them to just let him sleep. 

Suddenly the ground tilted underneath him and he gasped in pain as his bruises and cracked ribs flared angrily. “Careful!” a voice snapped, “he’s injured!” 

“Sorry Commander,” someone mumbled.

Marcus finally blacked out. 

________________

He awoke in darkness, panic gnawing at the edges of his mind. He tried to sit up and gasped as pain shot through him, seemingly from everywhere. 

“Shh, shh Marcus,” a soft, female voice said beside him, although it was dark and his mind was foggy enough that he couldn’t place who was speaking. “You’re safe, just rest.” He felt a hand on his forehead and a gentle push on his shoulder, forcing him back. 

Reluctantly he lay back down and as he sensed the person move away, he croaked, “Don’t leave. Please.”

A hesitation and then, “Alright. I’ll be here, don’t worry.” He felt a weight settle next to him.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep once more, his dreams filled with dragons and snow. 

_________________

When Marcus was finally asleep again, Neoma quietly got up and made her way out of the tent. Cullen, sitting by one of the camp’s fires, looked up as she exited. 

“How is he?” he asked. 

“Well I’m no healer, so you’d have to ask Adan for more detailed information, but he woke up.” She sighed. “He’s a bit disoriented, but I suspect it’s exhaustion more than anything else. His body took a beating, there are bruises everywhere, but I think they’ll heal.” 

She stood silently for a moment, a frown on her face. Shaking herself from her thoughts she looked up at the Commander. “How is everyone else?” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so focussed on making sure Marcus arrived safely that I haven’t been as aware as I should have been.” Roderick had passed away the night they found the Herald in the snow, but there were other casualties.

Cullen sighed. “For the most part we’ve held up well, mainly because of your suggestion we evacuate. There are a few soldiers who were too badly injured to survive the cold, but the rest have minor injuries and should pull through if we start moving soon.” 

Neoma nodded absently, her mind turning what she could remember of the coming events over in her mind. Normally at this point in the game the Herald would awake to the advisors fighting and then singing, but Mother Giselle, Leliana and Josephine had evacuated with the civilians, and only Cassandra and Cullen remained. Shortly after Solas would tell the Herald where to find Skyhold. She had pre-empted most of that, but now they needed to start moving, following signs left by Leliana’s scouts. 

Lost in her thoughts she suddenly realised that Cullen had been speaking to her. She reddened. “I’m sorry, I was miles away. Can you repeat that?” 

“I asked if you’d eaten,” he said. She got the distinct impression that hadn’t been all he’d said, but was giving her the abbreviated version. 

“Oh. Um, no.” On cue, her stomach grumbled noisily. 

He nodded. “Stay here by the fire, I’ll go get you something,” he said, getting up. 

Neoma smiled at him gratefully. She sat down by the fire, trying to warm up. The cold felt like it had seeped into her bones. Her home had rarely seen snow, so even after all these years on Thedas it wasn’t something she had managed to get used to. 

She stared into the fire, letting the sounds of the night wash over her. She remembered in the game, the camp singing The Dawn Will Come had been one of her favourite moments, but she couldn’t remember all the words, having not grown up with what seemed to be a common hymn in Thedas. 

She began humming softly to herself, feeling the need for the kind of comfort that only music could bring. She had never been religious but she’d always loved Amazing Grace when she was growing up - they used to sing it at school, and she remembered her older sister singing it to her own children to put them to sleep. She’d always found it calming. 

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound_   
_That saved a wretch like me_   
_I once was lost, but now am found_   
_Was blind but now I see._

Neoma’s voice carried on the night air. Perhaps not across the whole camp, but it reached Marcus, who had stirred and as his mind clambered towards consciousness, he heard her voice, low and sweet.

_Twas grace that taught my heart to fear_   
_And grace my fears relieved_   
_How precious did that grace appear_   
_The hour I first believed._

She was singing to herself, but had closed her eyes, feeling the emotion the song always roused in her, and the warmth of the fire as it thawed her. She didn’t notice that people had stopped to listen. 

_Through many dangers, toils and snares_   
_I have already come_   
_Twas grace that brought me safe thus far_   
_And grace will lead me home._

Marcus sat up slowly and painfully, but swung his feet out of bed. He looked around and found his boots, pulling them on so he didn’t need to walk outside barefoot. Drawn by the sound of her voice, he stood up slowly, feeling momentarily dizzy, but gathering himself he limped towards the tent flap.

_The Lord has promised good to me_   
_His word my hope secures_   
_He will my shield and portion be_   
_As long as life endures._

Neoma opened her eyes to see a small group gathered around watching her. She froze. 

“Please keep singing,” a croaky voice said behind her, and she turned to see the Herald, pale but awake. 

She nodded slightly, now self-conscious with so many people staring at her. 

_Yea when this flesh and heart shall fail_   
_And mortal life shall cease_   
_I shall possess, within the veil_   
_A life of joy and peace._

Cullen was making his way back when he saw a crowd gathered around the fire where he’d left Neoma. Conscious that there might be something wrong, he pushed his way through when he heard her singing and stopped to listen. 

_Though we’ve been there ten thousand years_   
_Bright shining as the sun_   
_We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise_   
_Than when we first begun._

_Amazing grace, how sweet the sound_   
_That saved a wretch like me_   
_I once was lost but now am found_   
_Was blind but now I see._

As the last notes faded into the night air she self-consciously glanced around at the people watching her. 

Marcus limped over to her, lowering himself onto a rock close by. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I don’t know the song, but it’s beautiful.” 

As the people drifted away, Cullen approached, holding food, which she accepted gratefully. He sat down close to Neoma, suddenly jealous of the closeness that seemed to be developing between her and the Herald. He hadn’t missed the Herald’s touch of her cheek in Haven and he was wary. No matter Marcus’s role within the Inquisition, Cullen struggled to reign in his jealousy at this moment. 

“Herald,” he said. “How do you feel?”

Marcus raised his eyes to the Commander, and Cullen took note of the dark circles and signs of exhaustion. He shrugged. “As well as can be expected I suppose. What are our casualties like?”

“Better than they would have been, thanks to Neoma,” the Commander replied. 

“We’ll need to start moving in the morning,” the Herald said. “We need to reach Skyhold.” 

“You need to rest for at least another day!” Neoma protested. 

Marcus shook his head. “I’ll be fine. The longer we stay out here, the more vulnerable we are. We need to move.” It was clear his tone brooked no argument.

Neoma frowned. “Well then you need to get your strength up.” She handed him her bowl of food. “Finish it, I’m done anyway.” 

Marcus inclined his head in thanks. They all sat in silence as he ate, lost in their own thoughts of the journey to come. 

To Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing Grace by John Newton. 1779.
> 
> A long chapter but it needed to end naturally for me. Hopefully you enjoyed it :)


	21. An Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise guest makes an appearance in Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *NSFW towards the end. 
> 
> Now we're straying a bit from canon. Enjoy!

“Commander,” Jim said, knocking on the door of the war room in Skyhold. “There’s an elf here.”

Cullen looked up from the maps he’d been studying, markers scattered across them. His neck ached and he reached up to rub it. 

They’d reached Skyhold a few weeks ago and while the journey had been hard, especially with the Herald injured, they’d made good time. The fortress was a blessing and an ideal base from which to launch their operations, but the Venatori were gaining a foothold and causing untold problems for them. The Inquisitor was currently out in the field dealing with yet another problem that had arisen. 

He stared at Jim, trying to register what he’d said. “An elf,” he replied. 

“Yessir,” Jim said nervously. 

“Riiiight,” Cullen said. “And you’re telling me this because…?” 

“Well sir.... He’s not, a normal elf.” Jim looked anxious.

“A normal elf,” Cullen repeated. “What exactly is a normal elf Jim?” 

“Uh, well sir, he has… tattoos sir.”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, trying to restrain his temper. He hadn’t had a lot of sleep and was feeling grumpy. “Jim, most of the Dalish elves have tattoos, please tell me what is so unusual about an elf with tattoos in our camp that you felt the need to come and tell me personally?”

“He has white glowy tattoos sir,” Jim said shifting from foot to foot, now more anxious than ever. 

Cullen opened his eyes. “White glowy tattoos? And white hair? Surly looking?” He asked. Jim nodded. Cullen sighed. He knew exactly who that was, unless there was more than one surly, white haired elf with glowy tattoos in Thedas. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered. “Of course. You better show him in. And after you’ve done that please go find Neoma and ask her to come to the war room.”

Jim hurried off and returned minutes later with the elf striding behind him, scowling at pretty much everything. He stopped short when he saw Cullen, the Commander getting the distinct impression that it wasn’t him he’d been expecting. 

“Fenris,” Cullen said, nodding at the elf as he walked in through the door. “I knew the elf with the “glowy tattoos” as Jim put it had to be you when he told me you arrived.” Cullen smiled slightly. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

Fenris smirked in reply, ignoring Cullen’s remark about his tattoos. “I would have thought it was fairly obvious why I was here. Of all the weird shit I’ve seen in the last few years, this is probably the weirdest.” He cleared his throat. “I uh, must admit, I was not aware you were in charge when I arrived, they merely said I needed to see the Commander. It is good to know the army is in competent hands however,” he admitted. “It makes me more confident of success.” 

Cullen raised his eyebrows in surprise. He and Fenris had never gotten on, but they both had a grudging respect for the other’s warrior skills. To hear Fenris say that was quite high praise. “Well,” he replied, “I am merely an advisor of course. The Inquisitor…”

He was interrupted as the door to the war room opened and Neoma entered. “Cullen, Jim said you asked me join you…?” She trailed off as she realised he wasn’t alone. Fenris had his back to the door so didn’t see her immediately, but he spun around when he heard her voice. His eyes widened in surprise. “Fenris…” she said in surprise. “What are you doing here?” 

“What are you doing here?” he shot back. 

She was caught off guard but she huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re really asking me that? My presence here makes sense.” She looked suddenly uncertain. “I wasn’t expecting you here… you’re not... nevermind.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence. “You look well,” Fenris said awkwardly, shifting his weight, clearly not at ease with the situation. 

She turned to look at Cullen, ignoring the elf’s comment. “Jim said you asked for me.” 

“Uh, yes,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, now nervous himself. “Well, I thought… I just thought maybe you’d like to know Fenris was here to offer his help against Corypheus. And since you know him best of everyone here… well, the Inquisitor will want to meet him and like we did with you, it might be best to have more than one person who knows him from… before,” he finished lamely. He was already beginning to think this was a bad idea. 

“Yeah of course, that makes sense,” she said stiffly. She wasn’t really angry at Cullen, she knew he meant well, she had just been caught off guard. She turned to Fenris. “I’m sure you’d rather not be with the general camp. Most of the people we know and trust are housed in Skyhold close to the Main Hall. Varric is here as well, I’m sure I can organise for you to be closer to him if you would prefer, however if you’d rather be more isolated there are other places we can arrange.” The last part of the sentence was clearly a personal dig and she felt a glimmer of satisfaction as Fenris winced ever so slightly, letting Neoma know it had hit its mark. 

“Close to Varric is fine,” he replied cautiously. 

She nodded abruptly. “Cullen, I’m going to ask Morris to organise. I’ll talk to you later.” He nodded in return. She turned to look at Fenris before she left. “It’s good to see you Fenris,” she said politely, but he could hear the sadness and hurt and anger in her voice. “I’m glad you’re here to help.” And she turned and walked out, the door falling shut behind her. 

An awkward silence settled on the men as she left. “I’ll uh, let you get settled first and then introduce you to the Inquisitor and other advisors,” Cullen said, clearing his throat. 

“Inquisitor? I thought it was the Herald of Andraste?” Fenris queried. 

“He recently accepted the position as leader of the Inquisition,” Cullen replied. He shrugged. “It comes with a change in title.” 

Fenris nodded. “Thank you Commander,” he replied. “Cullen,” he added. He spun and strode out. Cullen slumped in relief. Well that could have been worse, he thought. 

____________ 

“Broody!” Varric’s voice carried across the courtyard and Fenris turned towards the sound to see the dwarf striding towards him. He had always liked Varric, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye. The dwarf was practical with a sharp eye that didn’t miss much. “I heard you were here. I must admit I didn’t expect it.” 

“Varric,” Fenris replied. 

“Is that any way to greet an old companion Broody?” Varric grinned, pulling Fenris into a hug which the elf tried not to stiffen against. He patted Varric’s shoulder awkwardly. Varric let go. “I hear we’re going to be neighbours,” he grinned. 

“It seems that way,” the elf replied. “So,” he said awkwardly, “I see Neoma is here…” 

Varric laughed, “Yeah she arrived when we were in Haven. Caused the usual ruckus with her stories, but the Herald seems to believe her, even if he didn’t trust her originally, which is all we can ask when trying to figure out what the hell to focus on right now.” He grinned. “Anyway,” he said as they arrived at Fenris’s room, “You’re here, my room is over here.” He gestured across the way, “Neoma’s room is there although she spends most of her time with Cu…” He snapped his mouth shut, but Fenris had noticed and whirled around to glare at him. 

“What did you say?” he snapped. 

“I said her room is over there.” Varric said innocently, shifting his gaze away from Fenris and trying hard to keep his face neutral. Being faced with an angry Fenris was not an experience he enjoyed.

“She’s with the templar!?” Fenris growled, his voice growing louder. 

“Broody, calm down…” Varric said, raising his hands placatingly. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Fenris retorted. “I bet he was just waiting for her to…”

“Fenris!” came an angry voice from behind them and he spun around to see her glowering at him, a scowl on her face and her hands on her hips. “Follow me. Now!” she snapped and stalked towards the Main Hall, looking for a room where they could have a bit more privacy.

Fenris scowled, but followed nonetheless, leaving people staring in their wake. 

____________

She whirled on him as he closed the door. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She snarled at him. “You come in here and then kick up a scene where everyone can see you? I don’t need you here shouting our business for everyone to hear.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “You’re with the templar now are you?” he shot back, glaring at her.

“And what if I am? Why do you care?” 

“Why do I care? Because we were…”

“Were. Fenris. The operative word there is were. We haven’t been together for over a year, and might I remind you that it was not MY choice to break things off.” 

____________

Outside the door Varric was close enough to hear what they were saying, but not so close that he couldn’t duck out of sight if one of them came out suddenly. “Varric!” hissed a voice behind him. He turned to see Cullen scowling at him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Varric huffed a laugh. “Whatever Curly, like you weren’t coming past to see if you could hear what was going on.” He turned back towards the door, listening to the steadily rising voices from within. 

Cullen hesitated then moved up to stand next to the dwarf. “Is everything ok?” 

Varric grinned. “Oh you know… lovers tiff.” He smirked at Cullen. “Basically he’s jealous of you even though he ended it.”

Cullen sighed in exasperation. “It’s like Kirkwall all over again. I knew this was going to happen. The minute he arrived here. I mean, not that I wouldn’t appreciate his help in the fight, he’s a formidable warrior, but all this… and then the look on his face when he saw her earlier.” He sighed. “I thought it went better than I had expected. I should have realised he didn’t know about me and her.” 

Varric studied him. “Do you care about her? Or is this just a casual thing? Because that will make all the difference in how badly this might go.” 

Cullen eyed him. “Varric. We might not have been close, but when have you ever known me to be casual about anything to do with relationships? This is the first relationship I’ve been in since…” He paused. “Well, it might actually be the first real relationship I’ve been in actually,” he mumbled, turning red.

“Mmm. So badly then,” Varric said turning back towards the door. Inside they could hear Neoma and Fenris’s voices rising further as the fight escalated. 

____________

“I broke it off because I was trying to protect you!” Fenris snapped at her. 

“No Fenris, you were trying to protect yourself! I told you. That I would let you deal with it how you wanted without pushing you.” Neoma started pacing. “And I did. I let you deal with it, and I was there for you.” Her head snapped up at him and she glared at him, her startling blue eyes bright with anger. 

He shrank back slightly, trying not to show her he was afraid of her temper. “You were the one who broke it off with me. And I cried, and I was sad, but I understood I couldn’t hold you back from finding out whatever it was you needed to about yourself and your history. But did you honestly… honestly expect me to wait around for you, pining away and not moving on with my life? Especially when you left me like you did?” 

He said nothing, but the flash of guilt on his face told her all she needed to know. 

She laughed bitterly. “Wow… men. They’re the same on every world. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to want me either, is that it?” She shook her head. “Or is the problem not that I’ve moved on, it’s that I’ve moved on with Cullen?”

Fenris looked sullen and muttered something under his breath. 

“What was that?” she snapped.

“I said, he’s always wanted you.” He glared at her.

“What are you talking about?” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“That night at the Hanged Man, when he kissed you,” he said moving towards her, “I thought originally it was some elaborate plan to make me jealous, but he spoke to me outside afterwards and told me to get my act together if I wanted to be with you because otherwise he would.” 

Neoma was taken aback. She’d thought that kiss was nothing more than a flirtation. 

____________

Varric, still lurking outside the door, looked at Cullen in surprise. “Did you really say that?” he said. “That seems… more forward of you than I thought you were at the time. Even now, that seems out of character.”

Cullen shrugged and blushed. “I may have. I remember talking to Fenris outside, but it was five years ago, I don’t remember the specifics,” he lied. He remembered exactly what he’d said. Fenris hadn’t got it quite right, but the gist was the same. People often heard what they wanted to. 

____________

Neoma had briefly lost her momentum when Fenris told her that, but then her anger resurfaced. “Regardless, you still have no right to be jealous! We are not together. And if I choose to be with Cullen, then that has nothing to do with you!” 

“What if it does have something to do with me?” he argued.

“In what possible way could that be true?” she said, scowling. 

“What if I want us to be together again?”

“Oh my god Fenris, that ship has sailed! You don’t get to pick and choose to be with me when you want to. Especially because we’ve already done this a couple of times. You didn’t even come here to find me, you came here to join the Inquisition, so don’t think you can come here with a love story about mistakes and longing and suddenly I’m going to fall back into your arms!”

She stepped towards him and poked his chest. “This has nothing to do with you!” 

His tattoos ignited. “Don’t poke me.”

“I’ll fucking poke you if I want to fucking poke you, you arrogant ass!” she glared at him. “How dare you come here and think you can dictate to me what I can and can’t do!”

“Fine, I’ll leave then!” he said, his voice rising.

“Well that is what you do best!” she snapped angrily. 

The two of them glared at each other, the tension growing.

“I need some air,” he growled stalking out of the room. “And a drink.” The door slammed behind him. 

The silence he left behind was deafening. Neoma wrapped her arms around herself, feeling like she needed to hold herself together. There had been so much left unsaid when he left the first time and she could feel it all there, threatening to come to the surface and overwhelm her. She looked around, taking note for the first time that she appeared to be in a store room off to the side of the Main Hall. She sat down on a chest, buried her head in her hands and wept. 

____________________________

Fenris sat in a corner of Herald’s Rest nursing a bottle of wine. He was already on his second glass and it was only afternoon.

Varric appeared, sliding on to the bench opposite him. 

“Go away Varric,” he muttered. 

“You’re not planning on sharing that bottle of wine Broody?” 

“No. I’m not. In fact I intend to order another and not share that one either.” He looked up blearily at the dwarf. “Go find your own drink and leave me be.”

Varric shrugged. “Wine isn't really my taste anyway,” he replied. 

When it was clear that he wasn’t going to leave, Fenris merely ignored him and lapsed into brooding silence. 

“You’re blaming her unfairly for this,” Varric said to him quietly. “Her and Cullen.” 

Fenris’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. “Am I?” he said dangerously. “Well enlighten me dwarf. Explain to me my shortcomings?”

Varric didn’t rise to the bait however. He’d known Fenris too long to pander to his black moods. “Come on Fenris. Don’t do this. What did you expect to happen when you left her?”

“I DIDN’T…” he lowered his voice and took a breath. “I didn’t leave her out of choice, I was trying to protect her…”

“Were you really though?” Varric asked him. “Seems to me like you were trying to protect yourself. From caring too much perhaps? Were you cruel to her when you ended it?”

The flash of guilt in Fenris’s green eyes told him all he needed to know. 

“Ah that’s it. You were cruel because you knew she would fight to stay with you otherwise.” He leaned back in his chair. “You feel like you don’t deserve her. And now that you’ve lost her you’ve changed your mind.”

Fenris said nothing, just stared into his wine. 

“That’s unreasonable. I understand it,” the dwarf chuckled to himself, thinking of Bianca, “Maker knows I understand it, but it’s unreasonable and you know that.”

The elf glowered at him, but his anger was fading. Varric was right. The joy of seeing her again, and then finding out she was truly no longer his, was too much to bear. He sighed. “I love her Varric. I’ve never… loved someone like that before,” he mumbled. 

“I know Broody,” Varric said, patting his arm. “But we also have to live with the consequences of our actions. Maybe things might work out, and you’ll learn from this mistake, or maybe they won’t and you’ll take those lessons into your next relationship, but this is life.”

Fenris closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened. He would not cry. And certainly not in public. When he had control of himself he opened them to find Varric watching him. 

“Drink?” he offered, pushing the bottle towards the dwarf. “Even if wine is not to your taste.”

Varric grinned. “Don’t mind if I do.” 

__________________

Cullen knocked softly on the door and pushed it open. He found Neoma sitting on a chest, her arms wrapped around herself, her face wet with tears. She looked up when he entered, wiping her face. 

She sniffed. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her lip quivering as she tried to hold back a fresh wave of tears. 

Cullen reached out to her. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he said as she stood and stepped into the circle of his arms.” He held her as she gave a few hiccupping sobs, saying nothing, stroking her hair. 

“Did you really say that to Fenris?” she murmured. “Outside the Hanged Man.”

Cullen froze. If he didn’t ask what she meant, she’d know he’d been listening, but he suspected it was too late for that. It was very unbefitting of a Commander to be eavesdropping and he was mortified at being caught, especially by his lover.

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” he said and she chuckled into his chest. 

“Please Cullen, I know. You were looking for me, you heard us fighting, it’s fine. But, did you say that to Fenris outside the Hanged Man?” she insisted. 

He hesitated. “He doesn’t remember it quite right,” he said softly. “But something along those lines.” 

She hummed in response but said nothing. Cullen pulled back from her slightly and gently tilted her chin up to look at him. “Neoma… I never meant... “ He sighed. “Maker’s Breath. I only meant to show him what he was missing out on by being such an ass. I was riding high on the fact that you’d kissed me back and…” 

She stopped him by pressing her lips to his and he pulled her towards him, returning the kiss with passion. Like a switch had been flipped, the desire hit both of them with intensity and Neoma was pulling at the laces on his breeches as he was pulling at hers. 

Neoma reached into Cullen’s small clothes, freeing him and he yanked her pants down her thighs in one swift movement. She turned her back to him, presenting him with her behind and he groaned at the sight of her bent over, waiting for him. He ran a hand between her legs, feeling how wet she was already and positioning himself, he filled her in one swift movement.

Neoma gasped at the sudden feeling of him inside her, but moaned in pleasure as he began to move, thrusting slowly at first but as she pushed back against him, faster until all they could hear was the slap of flesh and their own moans of pleasure. 

Cullen grabbed her hips, pulling her to him with every thrust as Neoma reached between her legs. The sight of her pleasuring herself while he was inside her brought Cullen closer to the edge. Moments later he groaned and spilled himself inside her, feeling her clench around him a few seconds later as she joined him. 

Exhausted, they collapsed forward over the trunks piled in the storeroom, Cullen trying not to lean too heavily on Neoma as they both caught their breath. He was still in armour and he didn’t want to hurt her. Neoma began to chuckle, and as Cullen joined her it turned into a full blown laugh. If anyone had walked in at that moment, not only would they have been literally caught with their pants down, but they might be thought crazy. Eventually he pushed up, using a shirttail to wipe himself off, he’d need to go change he thought to himself, as she also cleaned up and redressed. Grinning, he reached for her hand, pulling her towards him and kissing her softly. 

Stepping back, he gestured towards the door. “You go first,” he said. “I’ll wait here for a bit before I leave. I don’t have a ready explanation for why we were speaking privately in a store room.” 

Neoma gave him a last peck on the cheek before ducking casually out of the storeroom, closing the door behind her. 

Maker’s Breath, Cullen thought to himself. What had he gotten himself into? Then he grinned. He wasn’t sure he cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a chapter I've had 80% written for a while. It was initially supposed to take place earlier in the story (so let me know if you pick up any inconsistencies and I'll fix them!), but then it just felt wrong and this felt like a more natural spot for it. Hope you enjoyed it :) Feedback always welcome.


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